


The Body Keeps the Score

by EmilliaGryphon



Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies), MCU, Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, gotg
Genre: Abuse, Adventure, Angst, Best Friends, Character Sacrifice, Conflict of Interests, Cybernetics, Emotional Abuse, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Roller Coaster, Emotionally Repressed, Enemies to Friends, Everything is Beautiful and Everything Hurts, Experimentation, Fighting, Forgiveness, Friendship, Gamora has a lot of shit to deal with, Gamora is a good mom to groot, Gen, Healing, Hugs, Hurt Gamora (Marvel), Hurt/Comfort, Love, Major character death - Freeform, Making Sacrifices, Medical Procedures, Medical Trauma, Other, POV Gamora (Marvel), Pain, Platonic Love, Platonic Relationships, Post-Guardians of the Galaxy (2014), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Gamora (Marvel), Psychological Trauma, Repressed Memories, Rocket Raccoon POV, So Is Rocket, Starmora, Suspense, Team Bonding, Team Dynamics, Team as Family, Thanos is a dick, Torture, Trauma, co-parenting baby trees in space, friendship fic, gamora is hurting, gamora origins, lying, nebula - Freeform, platonic cuddles, raccoons with anxiety, rocket raccoon origins, so does Rocket, whats your trauma
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-13
Updated: 2020-06-17
Packaged: 2020-06-27 08:16:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 21
Words: 57,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19786900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmilliaGryphon/pseuds/EmilliaGryphon
Summary: "You said it yourself bitch, we're the Guardians of the Galaxy." Gamora is finally a part of something. But the past always follows you, eats at you and she must come to grips with her deeds as she tries to build a future. Meanwhile Rocket has never cared much for anyone or anything. Together the two of them discover they are more alike than different and try to heal themselves by befriending the other.*Content Warnings: Mentions of child/animal abuse, trauma, character death, physical torture/pain*Title of this fic is taken from the book  of the same title "The Body Keeps the Score: Brain, Mind, and Body in the Healing of Trauma," by Bessel van der Kolk





	1. Among Friends

_"I am done with my graceless heart_

_So tonight I'm gonna cut it out and then restart_

_'Cause I like to keep my issues strong_

_It's always darkest before the dawn”_

Shake it Out - Florence + The Machine

\---  


_Up, down, right left, blindspot, turn, negative. Ship compromised. Escape pods? Destroyed._ The assassin’s eyes glanced around the chaos of the observation deck aboard the Dark Aster. Gamora tossed her head to the side trying to shake the hair from her face. Wind howled through the shattered windows, dulled in sensation only compared to the fires that burned all around them. She coughed through the smoke glancing around. _Threats? Eliminated. For now._ To her right Quill scrambled through the debris towards the ravager ship that had just crashed into the main bridge of the ship. Behind her the solid presence of Groot standing dumbly among the wreckage. Ronan. Where was Ronan, her eyes skirted the perimeter of the room. A dead soldier lay under a heap of metal. Another lay crushed several feet away. _Yet another...no, that was no lackey of Ronan_. Gamora made her way across the bay, shielding her eyes from the rubble. Stopping only to get her balance as the ship lurched forward.

“Drax! Drax can you hear me?” The large man’s head lolled back and forth with the pulverized movement of ship. Terrible ripping metal screeched in Gamora’s ears and she bit back a curse as the ship. She hooked her arms around his, yanking him back to where Quill stood. “Rrrr…..Drax, c’mon!” Gamora pulled again, his dead weight dragging on the metal floor. She coughed again, ducking and letting out a scream of shock as a fiery piece of debris fell just to her left, crashing and echoing. Plumes of fire and smoke billowed with the force of the mighty wind and Gamora tensed, pulling Drax along. She dropped him beside Quill and hunkered down over his unconscious body, ready to shield him if need be. 

_At least I did it. At least I got free. I am not his daughter._

Her thoughts rang louder than the crashing around them. Her chest heaved involuntarily with panic.

 _Breathe, just breathe. Slowly. In...out._ The Dark Aster pitched forward. Gamora clenched her fists, stomach pressing upward into her chest with the movement of the ship. _Control yourself_ she admonished against her trembling breath. _In...out...s_ he leaned over Drax, still unconscious. She blinked back the dust and flakes of debris, turning over her shoulder. The tree like creature sat behind her, his arms thrown wide. Branches broke and cracked and still more branches grew from those, wide and expanding around them. Quill’s bewildered eyes met hers, looking for answers she couldn’t give. The ship gilded with speed now towards Xandar. Gamora gazed upward at Groot his branches now fully encompassing around them, face resolute. Hair streamed across her face from the wind streaming through the wood.

Tears filled the rims of her eyes:

 _It would be an honor. To die among friends._ Golden spores drifted around them, a welcome distraction from the helter skelter of burning metal and sickening velocity. Gamora glanced down at the feeling of strong branches wrapping around her waist. She stole a glance at Quill, who opened his arms for Rocket to stumble out of his hold. Behind her Groot stared forward with determination. 

“Mmmmhhh,” Drax moaned as Gamora watched Groot’s branches wrapped snug around him.

 _Breathe,_ she cursed the ship free falling downward. She sucked in a breath, hands gripping the branches in a vice grip. Rocket was saying something but her mind couldn’t process the words. Tears leaked from her eyes, Quill’s too; she could see them from across the cocoon. He managed a smile she could not bring herself to return but she made a mental note of it. _How could he have managed a smile in the midst of all this? Endearing or infuriating?_ Well, it wasn’t like she would get the chance to decide. Her stomach leapt into her throat as the ship rushed towards the surface. It would hurt she supposed, even though this nest might provide some reprieve. Besides, she’d felt worse pain than whatever was about to come.

_Breathe, breathe._

“We. Are. Groot.” 

She closed her eyes against the fear. Her whole body crashed against the branches with the sudden impact. Her hands clamped over her head.

_Among friends, among friends, among friends, among…_

Thin snapping and cracking of branches splitting apart sounded in her ears, snapping and cracking. 

White pain flashed against her head, dragging her down into darkness. 

\---

_Ronan. Was. Alive._ Gamora sucked in a painful breath, watching as Quill did his best to distract the man with some odd movements of his legs and pelvis. _If Ronan survived he’ll tell Thanos…..if Thanos knows...I...he’ll send them after me. Proxima and the rest of them._ Nebula was bad enough. The image of her sister plummeting to the surface of the ship flashed through her mind. _Nebula wasn’t dead. She’s too clever for that._ She looked at Ronan with trepidation and rage. To think she empathized with the man. _Another tool of Thanos being manipulated by their rage against innocent people._ Gamora reached for her sword and suddenly felt her legs levitate off the ground hurled against her will into the crumpled wreckage of metal and branches. Purple light streamed across her blurry vision. _The stone._ With a grunt she pulled herself up burning hands wrapping around a piece of metal rebar in order to stand against the omnipresent force of the stone Peter was trying to contain. Hot pain flashed through her arms, expanding under her skin through her body. 

Cybernetic implants surging with stinging barbs. She grit her teeth against it, _pull yourself up. Good, one step, two step. Concentrate on the physical. Smell: charred metal and wood. Touch: Hot metal and...energy...power. Taste: Ash. Sight: Shadows through the light. Hear: Crying, Screaming. Peter...Peter screaming._ Gamora lumbered forward, mastering control of her aching limbs to reach out.

“Peter! Take my hand!” He turned to her, hearing somehow over the booming echo of the stone’s power. His eyes full of tears, face full of…..she didn’t know. His hand clamped down on her’s before she could prepare herself. Electrifying pulses of energy zapped up her hand, through her arm and throughout her body. Eyes squeezed shut she could still smell the metallic burning of her own skin and muscle. _Breathe...breathe..._ a mantra she’d learned long ago. When Thanos modified her limbs and enhanced her skeleton. _Breathe. After the eight round of combat that day. Breathe._ The power of the stone shifted, lessening the weight against her. Somewhere to Peter’s other side Drax let out a blood curdling shout. Gamora squeezed Quill’s hand. She could do this. She could defeat this. She was better than this. A moment later the power of the stone loosened its grip upon her only just. An animalistic yelp cut through the torpor of the wind. 

“You said it yourself bitch,” Peter’s voice cut through the pain. She cracked an eye open, turning to him. His eyes a dark clouded purple. “We’re the Guardians of the Galaxy.” _The Guardians of the Galaxy. A part of something._

“....How?” Ronan spluttered. Gamora watched his horror stricken face and allowed herself a cruel satisfied smile as the power of the stone took hold of his body, blowing it to disintegrated bits. _A fitting fate._ Slowly the agony ebbed, draining out of her, bringing her back to reality. The Ravager Yondu emerged some untold time later, speaking with Peter about the orb. Words were exchanged, words Gamora could barely make out and object to as Peter handed over the orb. But she couldn’t believe he’d truly hand it over to him, her trust only confirmed later when he revealed the truth. She allowed herself to smile, even admit a laugh for the first time in...in a long time. 

“Guardians of the Galaxy,” a light prim voice turned Gamora’s attention to Nova Prime, crossing casually over the destruction flanked by four guards on either end. “You have saved Xandar,” she praised. “Come, we will get you cleaned up and well fed. You must be exhausted.” 

“Thank You, Miss Nova Boss Lady,” Quill fumbled.

“Prime.”

“Yes! Prime! Mrs. Nova Prime.”

Gamoa allowed herself to be escorted from the scene, towards Nova headquarters. She shuffled through the doors, instantly eyeing the guards, _four Hsvar knives. A 89 grantiv gun and smaller concealed rifles hidden at their belts._ Down the white hallways they were led, up sixteen floors in a hoverpod. The doors opened up into a large brightly lit hallway. 

“Your rooms, for now.” Nova Prime stopped before an orange door. “A change of clothes, showers and a bed. You are welcome to rest up until the medical examiners are ready for you. Your wounds will be treated and we will get you a good meal.”

“Oh good,” Drax grunted. “I am starving.” Nova managed a polite nod, opening the door for him. Rocket was shown to his room next, two down on the left from Drax. Then Peter,

“Sweet! This is way better than the dives on Contraxia!” He stood in the doorway, then looked at her with that same uncertainty. That tentative gaze she’d seen before. He wanted to say something. 

“Gamora….” Peter whispered. 

“Your room is a little further down this way.” 

_Let it go, now is not the time._ Though a thousand words on the edge of her tongue. Gamora forced herself to look away, following the last of the guards. 

The room was spacious, bright. Natural light streaming in through the floor to ceiling windows that bent outward. Gamora watched the guard with keen eyes and waited until his footsteps and those of Nova Prime drifted away. _Alone at last. Safe. No. Never safe._ She easily made out the security cameras in the far upper reaches of the room. Four of them, one in each corner. Gamora picked up the clothes they’d laid out for her on the bed and changed in the bathroom, (no cams in there-she'd checked). It was good to slip out of the filthy bloody garments. Refreshing to step into something new. _A new start,_ she allowed herself to think as she fiddled with the skirt around her waist. The cool water ran down her face, she dabbed lightly at her wounds as she had done so many times before. Her mind flashed back to backwater planets, combat arenas, the houses of country officials and the murky lairs of criminals. _The Dark Aster._

“Gamora?” A voice tore her from the memories,

 _Peter?!_ She sprinted to the door in surprised delight only to have it dwindle. Another Nova guard stood before her.

“Yes?” She straightened, masking emotion. 

“Nova Prime has requested your presence.” Her stomach churned, _its alright. Starting over. This is starting over._ She forced a pained smile and nodded, walking with him down the hall, down six floors and through four sets of doors before coming upon a nondescript doorway. Another guard stood at attention. She eyed them carefully under their helmets. The one beside her had two guns, the one at the door only one. Without a word he opened the door, into a single room furnished with a table and two chairs, windowless. She spun on her heel as the door clanged door shut. _The table is heavy enough to break down the doors if possible, and the chairs…_

The door opened again, then shut. 

“Gamora, How are you settling in?”

“Well, thank you.” 

Nova Prime offered a superfluous grin. 

“I am glad to hear it,” the woman chirped then let her face fall serious. “Let me start out by expressing our deepest gratitude to you for saving Xandar.” Gamora nodded in appreciation, waiting for the caveat. “But someone with your...unique history must understand we cannot allow you to go free.” _There it was._ Gamora tensed. “Please, sit,” Nova Prime gestured to the linoleum seat.

“I’ll stand thank you.” The other woman nodded, sitting down and gently tapping the surface of the white table. Blue and yellow holograms leapt up. Her photo from the line-up just days ago.It seemed like a lifetime. Under that, a list of her crimes she tried not to read. 

“I have been in this business for a long time, but these crimes,” Gamora watched the woman’s eyes go wide with horror as the hologram scrolled down through murders and massacres. 

“I have changed!” She snapped, heat alighting in her limbs, reaching impulsively for her sword only to pause when it’s hilt was absent. Nova Prime’s mouth opened a jar. 

_Dammnit,_ wished the words back in, shaming herself for the outburst. “My associates can vouch for me,” she attempted to regain her composure. Nova Prime regarded her with a thin smile that previous Gamora would have sliced off her face with a ready blade. 

“Your associates are a petty criminal, a masochistic maniac, and an escaped lab experiment.” 

_And a Flora Colossus,_ Gamora finished completing the team.

“Their words mean nothing.” The assassin swallowed, trying to force down the instincts that told her to kill.

“I betrayed Ronan,” she reminded Nova Prime. “And I will convince Peter…” she cleared her throat, “Quill to give you the orb.”

The woman blinked, leaving the hologram and coming to stand before her. Keen eyes looking her over with blatant doubt. The same doubt that churned within her. Gamora’s lips drew into a frown, setting her jaw. “Do you really think I would have risked Thanos wrath if I was not completely certain? I am no daughter of his.” The silence between them strung like a bow, taunt with apprehension. Gamora looked at the woman intently. 

“A single act of morality does not absolve you a lifetime of treachery,” Nova Prime hissed. Gamora swallowed back the intent to attack, clenching her fists. 

“You may go dine with your companions. I will meet with the council and tomorrow we will decide if you are fit to be released into society.”

“So I’m your prisoner now?” The woman only pushed past her, pushing the yellow button for the door. “You are dismissed Lady Gamora.” 

\---

_No Wechelian smok is this runny,_ Gamora examined the red slob on her plate. She hadn’t been hungry these past few days, thanks to her ...previous training, she was able to discipline her body to go days, sometimes weeks with limited sustenance. None at all if the mission required it. But it was gratifying to be able to eat. She proceed quietly down the line of other Nova officers and Xandarian officials through the cafeteria line. Something clinked beside her, small black claws scratching against the counter. _._ Rocket’s small paw stretched over the lip of the counter fumbling for the utensils that lay just out of reach. 

“Look at that,” a man behind the food dispenser elbowed his buddy, “what is that?

“Hey move it rodent,” the man behind him sneered.

“Looks like a flarken!”

“Nah, too big.”

“Not big enough to reach the spoons,” the laughed, watching Rocket trying to balance on his tail, stretching forward. 

Gamora watched him make another attempt and subsequently fail. 

“Your holding up the line! Where’s your owner?” 

More laughter rose from the line of people behind them. Rocket only cursed, making another attempt to grasp the spoon and subsequently failed to do so. The Xandarian man who had jeered before now moved the spoons within Rocket’s reach. Gamora watched him make a grab for it, only to have it yanked backward further from his grasp, provoking another round of laughter. 

_Grab his wrist, twist to the left, demand he hand over the spoon. Threaten him if he does not...no. No._ Gamora bit the inside of her tongue as the man now rapidly moved the spoons in and out of Rocket’s reach. The raccoonoid made no outburst at the bullies, nor did he simply walk away. Instead he tried again, and again only to be denied and mocked.

_Like Nebula._ At that Gamora angled her arms outward and turned swiftly, elbow knocking the container of spoons to the ground in a clattering mess. 

“Sorry,” she lied to the workers, kneeling to pick up the spoons. Rocket was quick, yanking one up from the floor in a flash, keeping his gaze low and moving past her with a flick of the tail. She placed the container back on the counter, stalking onward to tables. 

_So many faces, species..._ she surveyed the swarm of the mess hall. _Xandarians, Askavarians, Contraxians, Yrrsh, Upek, Pliemans and more. Thanos eyes are everywhere._ She felt her skin prick in tension, rapidly watching every face she could. Memorizing their features, who they were sitting with. _There must be hundreds of..._

“Gamora!” The woman rounded towards the voice in a flash, arm raised to…

“Peter!” She dropped her hand, a nervous laughter overtaking her. “You shouldn’t sneak up on assassins.” He grunted something through a mouthful of smok. 

“Have you tried this stuff? It’s delicious!” She shook her head, smiling as he gestured to two empty seats. They sat across from each other. “They say they can fix the ship!” He explained through mouthfuls of food. “Won’t be as good,” he paused, sucking juice from each finger, “but close! Can’t wait to get off this planet!” 

“You and me both,” she put in. 

“So, how have you been? Did you know the showers have real Yttanian mist?!” 

“I’ve been detained.” 

“The mist reminds me of these sprinklers back in Missouri...on summer nights I’d run through the...wait what?” He suddenly dropped the smok. Face going from wistful to angry. 

“I can’t really blame them,” Gamora admitted shoving the smok around on her plate. “As the lackey of a genocidal maniac.” 

“Psshh is that what Rocket said? He’s so full of shit. Wait so are you like...detained detained?” 

“Nova Prime is meeting with the council,” she continued. “They will decide if I am allowed to go.” Peter’s frowned deepened. 

“That’s ridiculous! I’ll talk to them. Or we’ll break you out if they don’t let you go. You’re the most dangerous woman in the galaxy. They can’t detain you!” Gamora shrugged. “Well figure something out,” he offered warmly. She nodded, his earnestness was promising if not idiotic. 

“I’m sure.” 

  
There it was, that word again. _We._


	2. Xandarians

_ “And wherever you've gone, and wherever we might go _

_ It don't seem fair, today just disappeared _

_ Your lights reflected now, reflected from a far _

_ We were but stones, your light made us stars” _

Light Years - Pearl Jam

_ Someone was holding him. Hands, warm and spindly were wrung through his fur touching his flesh. No! NO!  _ Rocket bolted upward through a throbbing fog of pain, Quill relinquished his hold and the raccoonoid scrambled free, claws scraping against the mess of branches and leaves. A million little lights cast shadows across the wooden nest. The lights themselves pulsing. Rocket shook his head through the dull ache in his head and limbs.  _ What...where..?  _ He looked around wildly. One of the lights drifted close in front of his nose, golden and perfect.  _ Not lights. Spores. No!  _

Quyiit - Seventh Quadrant, Seven Months Earlier

_ “I am G...groot!” _

_ “If you hadn’t given away our position we wouldn’t be in this jam now would we!” Rocket tripped over a large branch. Groot sat in a heap, he’d grown his entire arms around the raccoonoid, making a protective nest around the gunfire. Now branches and twigs lay strewn about in all directions. _

_ “I...I am G...groot.”  _

_ “Stop being a drama queen you didn’t die.”  _

_ “I am Groot.”  _

_ Rocket looked up from his gun sharply, eyeing the flora colossus with momentary fret.  _

_ “Tsch, well just don’t do it again you big idiot.” _

__

The raccoonoid sprang over to Groot, his paws clinging to the chest with inscrutable effort. 

“No Groot!” He beseeched, “you can’t, you’ll die!” The ship was crashing and Groot was protecting them. The ship was crashing and he, he was the reason for it. For this, for the sap that gathered in Groot’s eyes. Rocket didn’t have a heart but if he had, it would have been broken. The bark rough and hard against his dexterous paws. “Why are you doing this?!” Groot didn’t owe this people shit! The only person he owed anything to was Rocket himself and the only thing he owed him was to...to stay alive flark it! One long vine grew forth from the Flora’s chest, navigating between the gentle spores of light and gently caressing the wound on his temple. A tender, heavy touch. Rocket leaned into it, eyes widening to take in Groot’s sanguine look. The bark around his mouth cracked into words.

“We. Are. Groot.” 

For the first time in their short partnership, Rocket did not understand his words. The raccoonoid tried to form a response but the velocity of the fall stole them from him. Strong arms wrapped around his torso, everything shook violently.  _ Groot...g...groot!  _ Something deep and primal within him commanded Rocket to curl into a ball and burrow, burrow deeply against the Flora’s chest, to safety. Small paws clutched to the wood with all his might. Wood split and cracked, a sudden impact, jostled fright.  _ Groot! Groo... _ a violent smack hit against his temple and Rocket felt no more. 

\---

The metal in his enhanced spine ached, everything spun. Rocket opened his eyes, holding up one paw against the garish light. The outlines of Xandarians gathered around, watching. His stomach turned, 

_ Flark, Groot won’t like these weirdos staring at us.  _

It was a strange thought to have coming to, but it was what his frayed mind came up with first upon waking. He looked around for the lumbering flora,  _ probably having a nervous breakdown.  _ He bit back the agony in his limbs, trying to summon the energy to stand. After all this time, after all they’d done to him, all the cybernetics in his spine, it still felt better to be crouched on all fours. His nimble palms felt the roughness of wood below. Something cracked and crumbled as Star-Turd got to his feet.  _ Wood.  _ Rocket blinked, stomach dropping in horror.  _ Branches. No. No, no, no!  _ He looked around frantically. Scattered among the wreck of the ship was a field of burning wood. Rocket tried to swallow, heaved for breath. 

_ Groot... _ his hands quivered, flakes of wood falling from his fur. He shook his head, more dust of pale wood sloughing off. 

“I...I called him an idiot,” Rocket mumbled over the ringing in his head. He plucked the three nearest twigs from the ground, one claw gently stroking them. He shook, trying to calm his nerves, shoulders trembling. He looked at his fur, bits ...there were bits of Groot stuck all over him. The dry taste of wood in his mouth. Rocket stuck two claws down the back of his mouth, forcing himself to vomit. He needed to get out of here, he needed to turn back time to minutes ago when he impulsively decided to crash his ship into the Dark Aster, before any of this shit. He needed to clean himself up. More snapping of wood, making him wince. 

There he was, the blue fucker. Rocket forced himself to stand, holding on the three twigs in his hand in a fury. 

“You killed Groot!” 

He launched himself towards the accuser. Something slammed into his chest, knocking him down to ground once more. He rolled, ducking his head, trying to ignore the sound of Groot’s ruined branches cracking underneath him. 

\---

_ Think, think, think!  _ Rocket’s mind may not have been functioning but his hands were and he put them to good use, gathering the remains of the Hadron Enforcer, hot-wiring the thing and aiming it at Ronan as Quill did some weird movements with his hips in what the humie called a “dance.” 

“I’m distracting you, you big turd blossom!”

Rocket held the wires together, just enough to make a spark, to let Quill make a run for it, grabbing the power stone. A purple omnipresent energy exploded forward knocking him to the ground once more. The raccoonoid tried to get to his feet as he watched the humie struggle to contain the stone. His heart hammered,  _ run, run, run, get the fuck out of here, run! No. If Groot were here, he’d help them _ he reasoned watching Gamora’s body constrict in anguish as she took hold of Quill’s hand. Drax followed suit shortly thereafter, the large strongman throwing head back in pain at the force of the stone. His fur stuck on end,  _ get away! Get the fuck away! No...Groot, Groot would do it.  _ Groot who was kind and good and dashed to pieces all around them. Still clinging to his fur and in his ears and between his teeth. Rocket trudged forward, every nerve in his small body pricking with hot electrifying force. 

Drax’s left hand splayed out, tense. Rocket grabbing his finger. A flash of terrible racking power coursed through his arm, lighting through the cybernetic enhancements radiating, burning. A shameful yowling yelp escaped the raccoonoid’s muzzle. His breath came in short bursts. The power of the stone slowly lessing in its intensity the longer he held on. 

“You said it yourself bitch, we’re the Guardians of the Galaxy.”

The words barely registered in Rocket’s whirling mind. He did not cheer in exuberance with the other Xandarians when Ronan was defeated. The banter between Quill and the blue Ravager man. He only knelt among the turmoil, every sniff of his nose bringing the bitter burning smell of the wood, of Groot burning. He plucked a twig from scorched ground, a brittle fragile thing and held it in his paws. Even hear amid all the eyes, he could not keep the tears at bay.

They were not the mewling sickly tears of Halfworld.

They were not the grateful humbled confused tears of the first time Groot held him in his arms.

They were not the stifling strained tears he had tried so hard to keep at bay just yesterday on Knowhere. 

_ I called him an idiot….Groot...after all he did for me.  _

Rocket stroked the thin piece of wood softly, thick tears running in rivulets down his fur. He lifted the stick closer, ever so carefully, curling around it as if to protect. To hold on to this scrap, this shred of the only being in the dast galaxy who had given a flark about him. 

_ It should’ve been me...it should’ve… _

Something touched him. Rocket coiled like a spring ready to go off but...stopped. Drax had sat down beside him and….pat him softly. Warm hands caressing through his fur not unlike Groot. He straightened, allowing his tail to uncurl in mild comfortability. The touch rocked him, soothsaying the darkest of his thoughts as he pored over the piece of Groot in his hands. 

“Come my friend,” Drax’s warm voice whispered after some intangible time, “we must go.”

_ Go? Go where? Groot is here!  _

Rocket stood, shaking following the large tattooed man clutching that twig to his chest with all the ferocity in the world. He peered over his shoulder as they led him away. The people who had gathered around had already begun to pick through the destruction. Picking branches up and throwing them off to the side. Stepping unceremoniously over the remains of his friend. 

\---

_ Bright....too bright... _

Rocket’s eyes looked listlessly at the twig he’d picked out among the wreck. He lay on the bed they gave him, squinting his eyes against the light.  The walls of the room were white, far, far too luminous Like the lights above on Halfworld. They exposed him and all his imperfections. The gurgle from his stomach beckoned him to rise. In a daze he made his way from the room they assigned him, down the hall, following others towards the dining hall. The eyes of a thousand Xandarian’s watched him as he walked, looking down on him. He selected a tray and waited for the alien behind the counter to serve him.Some sort of red globby sludge. It didn’t really matter, whatever it was. He’d most likely throw it up in a few hours. 

He reached for the spoons, too high up. He tried again, the laughter of the onlookers passing through his ears and out again. For once he did not have a smart remark to make, the impulse to shoot them was dulled.  _ If Groot were here he’d beat the living daylights out of ‘em.  _ But Groot wasn’t here, nor would he ever be. 

“Your holding up the line! Where’s your owner?” Rocket only blinked, reaching blindly, desperately for the utensil that was so close. Their laughter washed over him and through him. It was nothing he hadn’t heard before. He didn’t have the energy to retort. Hell he just wanted to grab this lousy excuse for a meal and get the flark out of here. 

The sharp sound of clanging metal brought him back into focus. Spoons clattered everywhere, Gamrora...who had been in front of him this whole time turned and knocked them over. He made his move, crouching and snatching one up without looking at her. 

_ Don’t need her, don’t need her pity.  _

He scurried away, sneaking out of the mess hall back toward his quarters. He ate, looking at the little twig and threw up in the bathroom, then laid down again, curling in a tight ball. If he could make himself smaller . _..so small... _ maybe he could keep reality away. Maybe they wouldn’t see him.  _ If they can’t see me they can’t hurt me.  _ He blinked slowly, laying on the bed cradling the stick in his hands. Rocket dragged himself upward once more going to the small bathroom, on the counter lay several items. A sink, something to brush your teeth or fangs-he couldn’t recall what the contraption was called, and a small container of what looked like stersies. He examined it closely in both hands, it smelled clean, felt smooth. T _he depth would be enough for some soil. I_ _ f Groot could regrow limbs maybe he could... _

Knock knock.

“Flark it.” Rocket dumped the stersies out and placed the twig in the little white container and running to the door, pressing the button for it to open. 

“Subject 89P13. Nova Prime requests your presence.” 

Under normal circumstances he would’ve blown the glark off the stupid officer. But his guns were all the way over by the window and they were so, so heavy. 

He dashed for the twig, plucking it up and carrying it with him as he followed the officer down the hall, through several corridors and a flight of stairs before coming to a guarded door. The man opened it, ushering Rocket in and closing the door behind him. 

_ Another cage,  _

The fur on his back and neck raised upward. Breaths coming in and out rapidly as he assessed the room. A single table with two chairs. He could probably reconfigure the light fixture above into something…

“Ahh, Subject 89P13,” he turned to face the woman known as Nova Prime. She appraised him with a smile. “Though I assume you prefer your alias, Rocket.” He nodded. “I wish to express, on behalf of all of Xandar, our deepest thanks for your heroic efforts to save our planet. And…” her eyes fell on the stick held tightly in Rocket’s right paw, “our most heartfelt condolences to you companion who lost his life. His sacrifice will not be forgotten.”

_ Yeah right.  _

“Waddayah want lady?” 

Nova Prime’s smile disappeared for a moment, then returned with a practiced recovery. 

“Will you be joining Peter Quill when he leaves Xandar?” 

What the hell, it wasn’t like he had anywhere else to go. Get rich with Groot and go splurge units on Contraxia or some other divey planet was dream that had died long ago. 

“I guess,” he drawled. 

“Good. Drax the Destroyer as well as Gamora also plan on joining him. You will make quite a crew.” 

“Yeah sure lady, whatever. What’s this got to do with me?” His voice curled into a growl. Nova Prime nodded, crossing over the table and typing. Rocket watched a hologram appear before her. 

_ Gamora’s record. And I thought I killed a lot of people.  _

“I have a proposition for you 89P13.”

“It’s Rocket,” the threat was there on the tip of his tongue but he didn’t have the energy to follow through.

“Rocket, of course. We have a proposition for your Rocket. Clearly you are aware of your teammates...colorful history.”

_Teammates,_ that was a strong word. He only snorted, folding his arms. 

“We’d like you to ...report on Gamora’s activity. Any of her communications, her trips to and from the ship anything out of the ordinary.”

“You want me to snitch on her?”

“We want you to help us protect the galaxy. As the self-proclaimed guardian of it you should look at this as an honorable duty.” Rockt rolled his eyes,  _ these freaking Xandarians always on about honor and all that crap.  _ Nova Prime must have read the doubt in his face. “We cannot expect a daughter of Thanos to go galavanting freely.” 

“What’s in it for me?” Nova smirked, pressing several more buttons on the screen; his file. 

“You’ve procured several bounties over time haven’t you? But you haven’t retained them for very long and only turned in four out of…” Rocket watched her eyes scan through his record. 

“Three hundred and seven,” he finished, spitting on the ground. 

_ And it was only thanks to Groot we caught those four ...he _ finally admitted to himself. 

“You’d be compensated for any information you can give us. We cannot ask the Destroyer because he is not as attentive to these matters and Peter Quill is too close to her. We’d start you at 100,000 units. Starting today, if you accept and it will increase over time. The more information you give us, the more you will be given in turn. What you do say Rocket? Want to get rich? 

\---

“What I can’t have a discussion with this gentleman?” He looked up at Gamora who grinned and slowly motioned for him to follow her towards the ship. He carried the little twig in its container, having grabbed some soil from one of the lawns late last night- and heaved it onto his hip. Walking into the refurbished ship Quill had christened the Benetar. He followed them up the gangway into the cockpit. 

When he looked over his shoulder, Drax nodded to him. A soft silent acknowledgement of their shared pain. He turned back, something in his chest expanding too far, too much and it would shatter the iron in his bones. He swallowed it down and turned away. Something gurgled and moved. Rocket’s stomach flipped, looking down. 

_ No, it can’t be...stars don’t give me flarking hope.  _ Yet there it was, there  _ he _ was. Two spindly little arms stretched out, uncurling beautifully. The little head tilting back and yawning widely.  _ Moving, cooing, alive there before him.  _

_ Groot.  _

Rocket’s chest inflated, gazing down at the little thing, so tiny and helpless and oh, so perfect.  _ Perfect _ . Groot was here. Quill’s “I Want You Back” belted throughout the ship. Drax laughed and Gamora stood between their two chairs. 

“We’ll follow your lead Star Lord.”

Groot was with him.

They were all with him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter two! Apologies if it was somewhat repetitive from the first but I really wanted to get both Gamora and Rocket's POVs at the end of GOTGVol1. This is the last chapter where the time of the story will overlap...at least for now. 
> 
> If this chapter seemed more "telling" and opposed to "showing," it's because I wanted to convey impulsivity. Gamora and Rocket respond to their surroundings in very different ways. Gamora is reflective, she internalizes her environment, calculates and then takes the best logical course of action that is why I tried to have more italicized thoughts in her chapters. Rocket however is totally reactive, (this doesn't mean he doesn't plan. He plans escapes and schemes very well, I'm just speaking in general terms). Things happen and he responds very quickly with little or no thought of possible consequences-see Rocket crashed his ship into the Dark Astar without thinking about that as their only means of escape.
> 
> Point of all this being I hope this chapter read slightly different from Gamora's and hopefully I can keep the consistency between the two! Stay tuned, as always comments and shares are always appreciated!


	3. Knowing

_“She moves with shameless wonder_

_The perfect creature rarely seen_

_Since some lie I brought the thunder_

_When the land was godless and free_

_Her eyes look sharp and steady_

_Into the empty parts of me”_

Foreigner's God - Hozier 

“We’ll follow your lead, Star-Lord,” Gamora smiled happily, leaning against Peter’s chair. She forced a slow breath, feeling the bright Xandarian suns shining on her through the wide window of the ship. The light feeling in her chest rushing through her veins. 

“Bit of both,” Peter decided, swinging the ship upward away from the surface of the planet, _away from the Nova Corps._ The only thing louder than the bumping music was Drax’s laughter. _Let yourself have this,_ she thought sitting down and strapping herself in. _You deserve this._ The Benatar leapt through the jump point and her hair went flying into her face playfully as the ship evened out. Gamora looked from Peter to Rocket regarding the latter with sympathy, it hadn’t occurred to her until just now, _he’d lost Groot._ She tilted her head carefully to look at him and...there was a pot in his lap, and in that pot _...Impossible. No, not totally,_ she remembered slicing Groot’s arm off not four days ago. The sharp sound of her sword hacking through his bark. The same bark that had wrapped around her, to save her...despite all she’d done to him. _Mutilated him and then virtually ignored him._ Noxious guilt writhed in her chest. The little twig in its container stared back at her with wide, innocent eyes. 

“Is that….?”

“Groot!” Peter gasped, he shifted the Benatar into auto-pilot and jumped out of his seat, looming over the tiny twig. 

“Don’t crowd him!” Rocket hissed, waving Peter’s hand away. The little sapling only blinked up at them. _Something’s not right,_ the realization of it dawned on her slowly. She couldn’t put her finger on it, but the way Groot looked at her was, off. 

Rocket unclasped his seat belt and slid off the chair, holding Groot’s container in one arm and baring his teeth as Peter reached out a helpful hand. 

“Don’t touch him.”

“Easy man I’m just trying to help,” Peter held his arms out and open. Gamora only watched the raccoonoid settle Groot down on the nearby table. 

“Groot! My wooden compatriot, I am glad you have regrown! You are smaller than me now, and quite puny. I am fond of you.” Drax gushed with such sincerity Gamora had to laugh. Groot only reached out his arms and flailed in joy. 

“Well team, I think this is cause for celebration! I think we should treat ourselves,” Peter placed his hands on his hips triumphantly looking down at Groot. “We deserve some R and R!” 

“R and R?” Drax’s face squinted in confusion, “R is a letter in the English Human tongue. How can we have two of a letter?” 

“It means rest and relaxation!” Rocket grumbled. _At least he didn’t attach an insult to the remark_ Gamora observed thankfully. 

“What do you guys say? We could go to Ertrbra or Wvonta, I know some great bars on Presscoa but if the bartender at Ikva asks I am definitely not the same guy who stole their top shelf Hrania bourbon.” Gamora shook her head in amusement, ever optimistic Peter. Peter who could brush off his past with humor. 

“Let us go to this planet of libation!” Drax prompted, “and we will toast to Groot for his sacrifice and his return!” 

_His return,_ Gamora watched Rocket ignore the conversation and run off to fetch something. He returned moments later with a jar of water and carefully let it pour over the soil at the saplings thin roots. Groot gurgled in a high-pitched squeak as the water soaked in. The vague feeling of uncertainty persisted in her gut. She swallowed it and punched in the coordinates for Presscoa. 

_\---_

“Ohh, looking fancy,” Peter leaned against the doorway of her room. She turned, the black cloak stirring with her movement. “What’s the occasion?” She fashioned the strings of the garment pulling it tight against her collar and tie it in a knot. 

“The occasion is Nebula is still out there, she’s gone back to Thanos no doubt. We are not his only children,” she fixed Peter with a look. “Once she goes to him she will tell him of my betrayal. It is only a matter of time before they come searching.” Peter’s face softened with comprehension. 

“We won’t let that happen,” he tried to reassure her. “And if he or his goons try anything we’ll take them on. And we’re protected by the Nova Corps.”

 _Protected, that’s one way of putting it._ She met him in the doorway, looking over that face still so full of hope and wanton foolery. 

“Rocket was right,” she recalled. “I have a reputation.” _How did he know her before they clashed on Xandar? Where did he hear of her? What else did he know?_ She’d ponder these questions later no doubt, later that night when everyone else was asleep. Peter’s hand raised slowly, aiming for her cheek but stopped short, dropping to her shoulder. 

“Let’s just go out, have fun, we’ll be back on the ship before long and if you want to leave at any point. We leave. Okay?” She looked at him. _“If we’re going to work together you might try trusting me.” Trust._ She nodded, pulling the hood of the cloak over her head. 

\---

“I like this bar you have selected!” Drax hoisted his drink into the air, sending a good portion of it spilling onto the table. The five of them crowded into a booth in the dimly lit dive. Gamora had already located two exits and another possible exit point on the ceiling if it came to that. The couple at the end of bar across from their table seemed kindly enough. But the woman had looked over her shoulder four times since the Guardians entered. Gamora took note and switched her gaze to the booth directly in front of them, over Drax’s head. _Two oprevien men, neither of whom appeared to be armed._ _But the booth behind her, the woman sitting there…_

“Right Gamora? Gamora?” Peter’s voice called her back.

“Um right,” she mumbled. 

“See! I knew it! Drink!” Drax muttered something but downed his glass of ale in three single gulps. On the table Groot struggled to reach for the empty shot glass beside his container.

“Let us toast! To Groot! Who gave his life for his friends and is now living again! We are most glad!” A sad smile lifted on Gamora’s face as she clinked her drink against those of the others. The yekkelian mixed drink was bitter and purple, but oddly tasty. Drax hoisted his third drink towards Groot’s pot and let the clear liquid seep into the dirt much to the saplings delight. 

“Drax no!” Rocket was on the bottle in a moment, knocking it away from the Groot. “Don’t give him that!” Gamora nodded approvingly. “Give him this!” Her appreciation instantly turned to concern as the raccoonoid swiped the bottle of Hyerlian Liquor he and Peter had split and tipped it into Groot’s pot. “Don’t give him that cheap shit, top shelf only!” Drax and even Peter, five drinks gone at this point erupted in erroneous laughter. The sapling only laughed and hiccuped, swaying happily. Gamora reached for the water beside her own drink and allowed Groot to drink it in. He gazed up at her, _those large brown eyes...too innocent. Too loving. Groot would never look at me that way, kind as he was. I only ever tried to hurt him._ Her nostrils flared, taking a long breath out as the uncertainty now revealed itself. She looked at Rocket, who drank from a glass the size of his face. He laughed and slid one paw around Groot’s pot, bringing him closer. 

_That is not Groot._

\---

“See! We had a great time and we didn’t even have to fake our own deaths or steal a ship!” Peter’s arm weighed heavy across her shoulders as she helped him back to the ship. 

_He is right, no one made a stir. No one tried to kill us. But they still could have noticed me._ She forced that thought to the back of her mind and concentrated on getting Peter to his room. Behind them, Rocket was sitting a top Drax’s shoulders with Groot hoisted even higher still in the raccoonoid’s arms above his head. A risky move especially as Gamora watched the destroyer stumble forward. _Pick and choose your battles. Groot’s safety is…._ the little flora giggled, eyes half closed. _Let it be._ She led Peter into his room and helped him down to sit on his bed. He ran a hand over his face, flushed with the alcohol and smiled. 

“Say it,” he prompted, leaning forward. “Say you had a good time.”

“I had a good time,” she responded honestly. His smile widened and he tilted his head forward. Instinctively she drew back. Then waited in the tense silence, whatever it was between them pressed against her at all sides. _Suffocating._ She tensed, even as his lips missed their target and his head instead rested on her shoulder. 

“Good! I think this is going to be the start of something great for us.” _Us? Which us? You and I or all of us?_ She knew the answer to that and nodded, harboring a secret hope that he could be right. “Nova let you leave,” he continued happily. 

“Not sure why,” she speculated. Peter waved a dismissive hand. 

“Because you’re….” he caught himself. “You’re cool, you're with us, the Guardians!” She smirked. 

“Goodnight Peter,” she sat up, his head falling onto the pillows.

“G’night!” His snoring sounded in her ears before she even made it to the hall. 

_Alone at last._ She made her way through the metallic halls of the ship. Listening to the thrum of the engines. The darkness was serene, the darkness was how she moved, she knew how to navigate it. _An empty slate to think on. Think. Groot is not himself. Well he is A Groot, but not our Groot._ She tip-toed up the steps to the main deck. _Not Rocket’s Groot._ Whether or not to tell him. The scales tipped in either direction. She tried to measure as she walked, pausing every now and then to admire the stars out the wide windows. _Better to live a horrible truth than a sweet lie. That’s what I am after all. A daughter of Thanos. A lie._ She sighed, running her hand along the cool metal piping of the ship. Down passed the common area, through the storage chambers. Toward the engine room. She summoned her courage, putting on the face. The imperial, unfeeling veneer of unflinching honest without emotion. One of the many skills Thanos had taught her. 

“Rocket….”

“I’m glad your back buddy,” she stopped short of the metal door to the engine room. Rocket’s slurred voice echoing against the corridor. “Don’t ever do that to me again. I thought...thought I lost yah. Okay?” Groot did not reply. “I mean it man. I know I called you an idiot and all...and...I feel really lousy about it.” Gamora peeked forward, Rocket sat on his work bench. Groot’s little pot on the table. The sapling was most definitely down for the count. His head flung back, mouth agape. Yet Rocket’s arms wound around the base of the pot. “You gotta hurry up and grow bud. Or at least say something.” He punctuated the sentiment with a belch and hugged the pot close to him, resting his snout in the dirt. “Your the only thing I got man….I’m...I’m sorry I didn’t realize it sooner.” Gamora watched the tears in Rocket’s eyes fall into the soil at Groot’s roots. She backed away, down the hall. Leaving Rocket in sickly sweet inebriated denial.

\---

_The straps dug into her wrist with a biting ache. The table hard beneath her. She shut her eyes against the blinding lights._

_“Daughter,” that voice. It held no face but she knew. “You are doing well my child. But there is always room for improvement.” Gamora made to struggle, arching against the straps but her body lay immobile. Thrash! Kick! Find the lock on the straps it’s to the right just under the...Ebony Maw came to her side, beady eyes gleaming._

_“Full facial enhancement then?”_

_“Yes.”_

_No! Kick damnit! Kick! Bite him! Why aren’t you…? The needle pressed to her skin, at her left temple just against the metal webbing. Something hot and burning entered her flesh. Gamora screamed, trying to move but her body would not obey._

_“Ease yourself daughter.”_

_I...am...n...not...y..your...daught...ter!_

_More agony, spreading through her insides, burning the metal inside her._

_Ahhhhh!!!!_

“Gamora!”

“N...not...your...d...daughter!”

“Gamora!”

_Peter?!_

Her eyes flashed open in a wicked sensation of falling. She gasped for breath, her heart hitching. Sweat slicked against her face. 

“P...peter?!” 

“What, no!” 

Gamora rubbed her eyes, _must have fallen asleep in the common area._ She realized, gazing up at Peter’s large movie poster for The Goonies. _Whatever that is._

“Rocket,” she swallowed. His disgruntled face nodded. 

“Will you keep it down? Groot’s trying’ to sleep.” His words barely registered, she nodded numbly putting a hand to her chest to steady her pounding heart. He looked at her with _irritation and resolve?_ She could read most aliens in the galaxy very well. It’s what had led to her “success” as a lackey for Thanos. No matter how many eyes or appendages they had. Gamora was skilled at reading intentions but Rocket _….those red pupiless eyes._ They glowed in the dark of the ship, the hairs on the back of her neck rising with the unfamiliarity. Rocket folded his arms in a huff and flicked his tail turning towards the hall. Gamora stood, crossing the room to the kitchen area and fumbled for a glass of water, watching him leave. 

“Gotta drink more next time,” he whispered.

“What?” 

Rocket halted, back to her. 

“Drink more next time,” he repeated. “It keeps the nightmares away ...at least that’s what I tell myself.” 

Gamora narrowed her eyes, in the dark she could see him open his mouth to speak once more, then shut it, sniffed, and scurried down the hall out of sight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> End of chapter 3! This chapter is a bit shorter than the other two, not sure why since I have a lot planned but Rocket's last line to her at the end just seemed like a good stopping point for now. I know the "Gamora about to tell Rocket the truth about Groot but then her over-hearing a particularly sappy moment so now she feels she can't tell him," is a bit cliche but hey, I never said there weren't going to be cliches! Thanks for reading, stay turned for more. As always comments are appreciated!


	4. Given Enough

_“I have no need of friendship, friendship causes pain_

_It's laughter and it's loving I disdain_

_I am a rock_

_I am an island_

_\---_

_I won't disturb the slumber of feelings that have died_

_If I never loved I never would have cried_

_I am a rock_

_I am an island.”_

I am a Rock - Simon and Garfunkle

  


“This is Ro…” he cut himself short, knowing it wouldn’t work. He sucked a breath, his lungs constricting to form the words, forcing the words through his tight throat. “This is Subject 89P…” his voice hitched, drifting off. Luckily it worked.

“Subject 89P13 granted access.” The screen on his pad went static for a moment before the helmeted Nova officer appeared. They never told him their names. 

“Status report?” 

Rocket picked something out of his fur. 

“Nothin’”

“Excuse me?” 

The raccoonoid smiled, bemused at the officer’s offended huff. 

“You heard me loser, there ain’t anything to report.” 

The man’s frown deepened. Rocket flung his feet up on his work bench, the pad balancing precariously on his knees. 

“Are you sure?” The Nova officer pressed. 

“Yeah yeah,” Rocket waved a dismissive paw, _that tremelian rifle could really use a new scope._

“Need I remind you Subject, that your freedom is dependant upon your reports.” The hair on his neck raised. “The Halfworld Bioengineering Laboratory may have shut down, but according to intergalactic law you are still property of…”

“There ain’t nothing to report!” Rocket hissed, knocking the data pad to the floor as he leapt upward. “Yah wanna know what Gamora’s done these past few days?” He leered down at the glowing screen. “She wakes up early, lifts some weights, practices with her swords for about an hour then goes to the kitchen and gets some wek and whatever else is in the cabinets, eats breakfast then goes back to her room to shower. She hasn’t done anything suspicious or dangerous or murdery alright? Nothin. If she did, I’d tell you.”

“You had better,” the man’s thin voice threatened then calmed, mechanically. “We’ll transfer your units momentarily. We expect another report in one week Xandarian time.” 

“Fine,” Rocket fumed, jabbing his finger at the disconnect button. The screen blipped back to a clear glass looking pad. 

“Mmmmmggg.” 

The raccoonoid’s ears swiveled instantly in the direction of Groot’s little container. The tiny flora wiped his eyes with the back of his leafy hands. Rocket was at his side before he finished yawning, tipping the small watering container with precise calculation. He watched the carefully preheated water, (luke-warm but not too warm), fill up to the rim of the container and stopped immediately. 

“How’s that?” He waited to hear those three little words, but Groot only smiled and stretched his arms out the water sinking into the porous soil. 

“Gggg!” 

Rocket groaned, running a paw over his face, flicking his tail. 

“Just get up man.” 

Groot did not appear to understand the exasperation in the raccoonoid’s tone, doing nothing but wiggling in his container and smiled. Rocket rolled his eyes, hoisting Baby Groot on his hip and stepping over the tangle of wires and cables of the uttellien bomb he was refurbishing. 

“Never gonna give you up never gonna let you down..” 

Quill’s never ending music echoed through the halls of the Benatar, newly christened after the Nova Corps had salvaged as many pieces of the original as they could. _I could’ve done better,_ Rocket eyed the tiny purple ysi growing on the cracks of the metal paneling against the walls. Groot shook from side to side in his pot, flecks of dirt falling onto his fur. 

“Hey!”

Rocket snapped at him, one paw cupped around the thin trunk.

“Your gonna uproot yourself man! Stop that!” 

Groot’s happy smile crumbled, replaced by wide eyed fear at the raccoonoid’s inpatient tone and bared teeth.

“Never gonna say goodbye, never gonna make you cry!”

_Flark it!_

The little flora opened his mouth, letting loose a wail to rival any explosive. The hair on Rocket’s neck bristled, claws digging into the pot. 

“Shut up!” 

He snapped, picking up the pace, up the stairs to everyone’s separate quarters as well as the kitchen and common area. Groot’s wailing escalated ripping through the soft flesh of Rocket’s enhanced ears. The music bumped, joining with the sound of crying. 

“....the latest scanner says there was a ship spotted in the fourth quadrant. She’s probably headed for Kilvore, an outlying planet on the Vrtrien belt. Home to several billion people.” 

“Yeah but Gamora...going after Nebula there’s no...will you keep him quiet?” 

“How about you shut your flarking music off? How ‘bout that?” He slammed Groot’s little pot down on the table with fury.

“Easy Rocket, be gentle! You’re gonna hurt him!” 

Gamora’s concern rose to anger, eyes wide as the table shook and Groot let out another series of plaintive cries, sap streaming down his face. Rocket’s tail thrashed, pointed teeth snarling over the music. 

“Don't tell me how to care for him!”

"Your not caring for him that's the point!"

“Is there going to be a brawl?”

Drax leaned down from the narrow galley stairwell, poking his head into the common area. 

“No! No there’s not.” Quill interjected. Rocket watched the humie’s disapproving glare as he strode over towards over to Groot. Attempting to placate the little flora who only responded with more incessant howling. 

“That is disappointing,” Drax continued, stepping down the ladder. “I would very much like to see our furry friends fight with the lady assassin.” 

Rocket bit back a curse, attention snapping towards Groot once more as he tried to wriggle his roots through the soil. 

“He ain’t ready to get out yet! He’s gonna hurt himself!”

Groot only sniffled as Quill began to dance before him-or at least Rocket guessed it was supposed to be a dance. The human shook his legs and arms wildly, gyrating his hips and twirling around for the flora’s amusement. The song tempered off as Quill spun around, arms outstretched and hands waving.

“Tahh daaaah!”

“MMMgggg!” 

Groot giggled, waving his own arms in mimicry.

“You’re an idio…...dumbass Quill.”

As usual the humie waved a dismissive hand, laughing along with Groot. Rocket’s ears flattened against his skull, feeling Gamora’s judgemental gaze against his back. 

“We ain’t taking Groot outta his pot and we ain’t going after Nebula.” 

“We were going after the mean blue lady?”

Drax stepped around Gamora, rummaging through the cabinets and grabbing a bag of sgig chips and chewing loud enough to make Rocket want to claw his face off. 

“No, we don’t know yet.” Quill tried to de escalate, he picked Groot’s pot up in his arms without asking Rocket, and carried him back over to Gamora and Drax. 

“As long as she is out there we are danger!” Gamora urged, her fists curled on the counter.

“No _, you’re_ in danger!” Rocket vaulted up onto the counter top, pointing one clawed finger in her face. “She ain’t trying to kill me.” The woman’s eyes narrowed, a vein in her neck pulsing with fury.

“You selfish little….”

“We haven’t decided what we’re doing yet Rocket it is up to all of us. We’re making a decision as a team.” The humie’s perturbed face looked between them, the pleading in his eyes. Groot gurgled nervously as the four of them exchanging heated unspoken glares. 

“We ain’t going after Nebula!” Rocket pressed again, watching Groot leaning forward in his pot. _I ain’t putting him in danger again. This time was too close._ He’d seen enough of Nebula to know her sadism, know the lengths she would go to to murder Gamora. He’d go to those same lengths to protect Groot. 

“We must!” Gamora shouted at him, “don’t you understand? If we let her go she will tell Thanos what I’ve done and she’ll come back, she’ll kill us all.” 

“Good, let her come.” Drax snapped, “we will kill her if she tries to harm you. Or kidnap her, and make her lead us to Thanos. Then at last, I can have my vengeance.” 

“Will you get it together yah’ moron? We just saved the damn galaxy! We’re lucky to be alive! Groot’s lucky to be alive!” He threw a paw toward the Groot, the rest of the Guardians following his gesture, falling into an uncomfortable silence. 

The baby flora only giggled as the next song on Quill’s mixtape reved up. Gamora took a deep breath, and Rocket braised himself, clenching his fists and sneering at her. 

“I know you care about him Rocket, we all do. But tracking down Nebula is the best shot we have at keeping him and everyone safe.”

“Tsch, I ain’t buyin’ it! We ain’t going after her, she’s more ruthless than you!” 

“Rocket…”

“Don’t Rocket me,” he barked. “If you wanna go after that psycho fine! But don’t drag me and Groot into this! He’s gone through enough shit for all you ungrateful losers! He almost died! Don’t ask us to do it again!” 

“I don’t want to do this either but we have to,”

“Guys just calm down, we can settle this!” 

Rocket let loose a hiss, fangs bared leaning towards Gamora to match her anger. One paw reaching for his pistol, set to stun of course. 

“Rodent no!” Drax interceded between the pair of them. Rocket jumped down from the counter, chest tensing. Shame welled up in the pit of his stomach. Before the tears could come he cursed, storming from the common area back down to the engine room despite Gamora’s calls of apology. 

The large metal doors clanged behind him. The music cutting off almost entirely. Rocket reached under one of his work benches for his stash of etrian lager downing a bottle in several choking gulps. He drank because he was bored because he was angry, because the liquid promised aid to a restless and nightmare plagued sleep. Because he could. _And she says I’m selfish, I ain’t the one dragging us all into danger because I’m too soft to kill some wacko cyborg assassin who’s trying to kill me. She’s a coward._ He pushed the amalgamation of blankets and scraps of fabric he’d gathered together into some semblance of a bed. Rocket curled up in a fuming ball of anger. Thoughts of Groot in danger of him splintering apart. Of his own rageful hopelessness. He shifted, trying to adjust himself . _Too soft, too still._ Grown Groot’s chest was much more comfortable. The blankets were too floppy, too flimsy. Not like those strong wooden arms at all. The tears of frustration and hurt at Drax’s comments pressed against his eyes. If Groot were larger again he’d know what to do. He’d know what to say. 

“Flark it,” Rocket whispered to himself, sniffing and wiping a paw across his wet nose. That uttellien bomb really did need work. He dragged himself across the room, intent on working until exhaustion finally overtook him. Only twice did Rocket turn over his shoulder to expect Groot’s lumbering form above him.


	5. Chances

_ It's a good ol' bedtime story, give you nightmares 'til you die _

_ And the ones that love to tell it, hide the mischief in their eyes _

_ Condemn their sons to Hades _

_ And Gehenna is full of guys, alive and well _

_ But there ain't no hell for a firewatcher's daughter _

Stranger at My Door - Brandi Carlisle    
  


Gamora drummed her fingers against the worn controls of the Benatar. The distant rumble of the engine and the music competed for dominance throughout the ship. Only to be drowned out by Peter and Drax’s yelling. The assassin tuned it all out as she scrutinized the screen in front of her. A holographic depiction of the ship, making its way through the tenth quadrant.  _ We’re only going forty seven teks?  _ She rubbed her fingers over her eyes, leaning against the controls.  _ If Nebula is on Kilvore she’s probably talking to the Kree. Or the Skrulls. Which is worse?  _ She tried to remember the last time she’d faced off against a Skrull. 

“Hello Peter,” the woman heard his heavy footfalls long before he appeared on the deck. 

“Figured you’d be up here,” he smiled warmly in that unsettling way that made her want to smile back, despite the anxiety roiling in her stomach. 

“We need to be on Kilvore today,” she turned back to the controls before her grin could betray her. “Every second Nebula is out there she’s talking to people, or making her way back to Thanos. She could be amassing an army right now. We should be at the jump point already. If we don’t…”

“Hey, hey, easy. She’s not gonna go straight to Thanos.” 

“And what makes you so sure of that.”

Peter’s grin only widened, opening his arms, trying to be casual about reaching out to her. She watched him keenly and sidestepped, looking out at the passing stars. “She would’ve gone to Thanos the second she found out you betrayed him. She could’ve gone to him right after the Kyln but she didn’t. You know Nebula better than anyone. If she wanted to drag you to Thanos she would’ve, if she wanted to kill you, she would’ve.” 

Gamora shifted her weight, straightening as he came up behind her. 

“We have to get to Kilvore as soon as possible,” she finished, crossing her arms and turning away from him, down the hall back to her own bunk. The sounds of Pat Benatar herself followed her down the metal corridors. The light click of her boots echoed, click, click click….

Eleventh Quadrant, Planet Unknown - Seven Months Earlier 

Click, click, click,

“Ghhh, hhhh, hhh,”

“Hush, you know he doesn’t like it when you scream.” Gamora’s hands trembled reaching out to touch the bare cybernetics of her sister’s head. Wires stuck out at odd angles. Occasionally sparking. 

Nebula snarled, shrinking backward and letting loose another cry of pain from the suspension wires that tugged at her tender skin. 

“Don’t touch me!” 

Gamora’s hands fell, eyes scanning for any sign of their father, or Maw or any of the others. 

“You need to be quiet. If you scream he’ll only hurt you more.” 

Nebula’s dark eyes narrowed, 

“The...the..o.. only one,” she winced at another spasm. “Who... who’s hurting me is you.” 

Click, click click, 

“He’s coming back.” Gamora backed away, watching her sister’s face, riddled with inscrutable fury, the truth of it dawned on her with spine chilling certainty.

_ She’s going to kill me one day.  _

_ \--- _

Gamora marched down the hall, head down, trying to think over the music sounding throughout the ship. 

“Gamora!” 

She stopped short, slamming into something hard and instantly reached for the knife at her hip, swinging the small blade upward with a true aim. 

“Drax! Don’t sneak up on me like that!”

The large tattooed man frowned, arms folded across his chest. 

“Have you seen small Groot?” 

Gamora slid her knife back into its sheath, stomach dropping to her feat. 

“You lost him?!” 

“Oh no,” Drax waved a dismissive hand, “we are playing a game. I have place small Groot beside the go gear and I am going to hide amid the ship. He will wait and then come and find me.” 

“Drax, how is he going to find you if he cannot leave his pot?”

His face morphed from amusement to realization.

“I will return,” the Destroyer promised, turning on his feet back down the hall. At least someone was adjusting to communal life quite well. Drax had been in the highest of spirits since they left Xandar, fawning over Groot and offering to cook meals for them. They weren’t bad, some of the best etriet she had ever had. She watched him take off back to their game but split off to her own quarters. The door shut with a quiet thud, only the slightest traces of music could be heard whispering through the walls, trying to get in.  
  


Gamora stretched her arms outward, to the left, then the right the tight pull of her skin still resisted some of the metal in her shoulders and elbows but she breathed through it, trying not to remember the face of the man who put them there. She bent down, touching her fingers to her toes the taunt tendons on the back of her knees straining tight. Breathed, in then out, then out against the uncomfortable feeling. 

After the stretching she lifted her weights timing her thoughts to each lift. 

_ If she tells Thanos I betrayed him...he will send the others after me. No. He wouldn’t waste the resources. He’d send Maw or Proxima.  _ She set the weights down, the ache in her body relaxing momentarily before she lifted again.  _ No...he enjoys mind games...toying with us. He’d make Nebula track me down herself.  _

She sucked a breath through her teeth, sweat beginning to coat her chest.

_ Was that better or worse. Maybe Peter was right?  _

Gamora set the large barbell down and lay down against the bench, pressing the large weights with her legs.  _ That’s it...just push it away ...push it all away.  _ But Nebula’s face continued to linger in her mind, those black eyes.  _ The hatred.  _ Gamora pressed against the bench, pushing against the own strength. Testing herself, constantly testing herself.  _ Just a bit farther,  _ the cybernetics in her legs twinged, irritating her skin as she strained.  _ Just push a little more. It a bit more and I can win...I can win again ...just a little farther… _

“Fuck!” A searing stab electrocuted through her right leg. The clang of the press snapping back in to place hammered against her head.  _ Damn that socket,  _ it had always been slightly off, the cybernetic bolt in her right leg. But telling him it hurt would’ve made it worse. That would’ve meant another procedure and it was better to grin and bear it. She could take it. 

Gamora slowly worked the skin on her knee rubbing out the kinks slowly and methodically with her rough hands.  _ Peter’s hands were soft, when he held them on Knowhere.  _ She imagined those large hands messaging her skin, he’d probably be gentle and make some sort of lame joke. She thought of him fondly through the burning in her her leg. 

_ Stop it Gamora,  _ she chided herself as she stood up and tested her weight. Her fingers pressed against the wall, leaning against it for support. The metal in her twinged; she bit her lip, forcing her leg outward, the pull of the muscle oddly comforting.  _ Just breathe.  _ She straightened, hissing through the burning pain and swallowed, tossing her hair over her shoulder.  _ In, out. One more time.  _

_ Good,  _ she realized looking down the corridor; no one was there. Another song revved up throughout the ship. She made her way to the cock-pit, glancing around for any sign of Drax or Peter or Rocket.  _ They can’t know. They’ll try to stop me if I tell them.  _ Rocket’s untethered temper flashed through her mind. She waved the thought away with an irritated huff, climbing up the steps to the main bridge. 

“Groot?” 

The little sapling looked up at her with innocent glee, two tiny little arms bolstering himself up as he was attempting to drag himself across the hall, trailing dirt out of the little round container. She dropped to her knees, expertly ignoring the pain and looked over the black dirt, tumbling aside to reveal the root-flare but strong. Some roots poked through, small but strong. 

“You shouldn’t be out of your pot!” 

The little creature just blinked happily large eyes staring up at her with impeccable admiration. A look at the old Groot would never give her, as kind as he was. 

“Where’s Rocket?”  _ He should be keeping an eye on him. Letting him out of his pot so young.  _ “Hold still,” she packed the dirt once more against the sapling.  _ The soil has to hold everything in place...but not too tight so the roots can’t grow? Too much?  _ She wondered skeptically, moving the clumps around with her fingers. 

“MMMmmm ggg!” Groot fussed, trying to swipe at her with nimble little hands. 

Gamora ignored his attempts, hoisting the flora on her hip and going to the cockpit. She set him down in nav seat, strapping him in. 

“Hang on,” she instructed, sitting herself down in the pilot's chair, flipping off the auto-pilot control.

_ You’re not taking this from me Nebula. Not this.  _

Gamora curled her grip around the pad of the steering console.  _ Breathe, in...out. Hold it. Go.  _ She pushed the gears forward, suring into hyper-speed to the jump point for Kilvore. 

  
_ I’ve never lost a fight with her before.  _ Beside her Groot shrieked with glee. She glanced at his smile out of her periphery.  _ I’m not losing this one.  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies this chapter is short, and sort of slow. I had to write to so we can get to the fun stuff, which will be coming shortly!


	6. The Wrong Shot

_ You and I both are nothing but thieves _

_ We take what we want when we need _

_ I had a chance for a better life _

_ But all that I've known is to _

_ Run, run, run, from a devil in disguise _

_ Like a bullet, a bullet, a bullet into the night _

_ Bullet - Steel Train  _

_ Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck fuck!  _ Rocket cursed rolling backward across the crowded workshop, hissing as the cybernetic panel in his back slammed into the unforgiving wall. Colors swam for a moment before his vision. The raccoonoid blinked several times, waiting for cybernetics in his optic nerves to recalibrate. He flicked his fingers,  _ good still in tact. _

_ I’m gonna shoot that flarking humie, _ he thought begrudgingly, standing up and stalking out of the work room. 

“Quill! What the hell kinda jump was that?! You’re gonna wreck my ship!” Rocket scurried to the engine room.

“Um it’s my ship,” the human stepped out into the main hall, one hand clutching his stomach. “And I didn’t do anything!” 

“Then who the hell is piloting this thing?” Rocket pushed passed the human with a grunt into the cock-pit. He halted in the door, an orange glow bathed the interior of the ship with hazy iridescence. Three large green asteroid rings encircled the planet.  _ Kilvore.  _

“Gamora!” Drax boomed, stomping in behind Quill. “You are quite the pilot! You should be flying this ship!” Rocket suppressed a growl,

“Groot!” 

The little sapling made a playful cooing noise from his place in the co-pilot seat. Rocket rushed over to him and growled at the right of the miniature flora, who, despite his seat belt had tumbled from his pot. Dirt scattered about the seat.

“What did you do?!” The raccoonoid growled, furiously packing the soil back around Groot’s base. Gamora bristled with the accusation. 

“I didn’t do anything,” she keyed in the codes to approach landing. “I strapped him in, he’s alright.”

Evidently Groot wiggled his arms as the raccoonoid hoisted him up on his hip-reaching to try and play with the straps of Rocket’s jumpsuit. 

“He could’a been hurt!” 

“If he never get’s hurt he’s never going to learn how to protect himself,” she countered. 

“Is that what daddy Thanos taught yah?” He snapped, baring his teeth at the woman. He looked up at Gamora, a nerve pulsing in her forehead. Something snapped.Gamora stuck her arm out, instantly for the raccoonoid’s neck. Rocket panicked as his feet were whisked off the ground. Groot tumbled from his hold. Drax dove with surprising agility, catching the little flora who only giggled and wiggled in his pot. Rocket growled, claws digging into Gamora’s wrist, 

“Oh yeah,” he snarled, with a cruel grin. “There she is, there’s the daughter of Thanos!” Her fingers tightened around the scruff of his neck, hardly flinching even as he kicked and scratched, trying to reach for the gun in his belt. 

“I’d rip out your spine rodent, if you had one.” 

“W...what the hell Gamora?!” Rocket wheezed out, trying to twist his neck out of her grip. 

“I am not a daughter of Thanos,” she whispered dangerously. 

“Yeah, you’re really proving me wrong. You flarking…”

“I could snap your neck,” she threatened, “it would be easy.”

Rocket focused his roving eyes towards Groot’s plaintive wail. 

“You can run all you want,” he hissed through gritted teeth. “But you can’t run from what he made you.” 

“C’mon guys,” Peter whined, “I thought we were passed the point of killing each other!”

“At least I ain’t a hypocrite” he couldn't stop himself. The humiliation of being held like some dangling thing, the escalation of Groot’s terrified cries. “Your no better than him.” His tail thrashed madly,  _ bite...bite her! Get away!  _

“Gamora,” Quill stepped forward tentatively, “let him go.” 

Rocket swallowed down the animalistic yelp that nearly escaped him as Gamora dropped him to the floor. He glared up at her, trying to massage the throbbing in his neck. 

“Like father like daughter,’ he wheezed, black nostrils flaring to catch his breath. 

“Hey!” Quill snapped, pointing at him like some petulant child. Groot tried to inch his pot forward little arms reaching out for him, sap leaking from his eyes. 

“I’m going after Nebula,” Gamora barked stalking from the room. 

“Wait! Gamora!” Quill spared a disappointed glance at Rocket and darted out of the cockpit as the Benatar shook, locking into the dock on the main port of Yreka’a Kilvore’s largest city. 

“Mmm, mmm Grrr!” Groot’s little face screwed up as he cried. Drax knelt down placing Groot’s pot in front of him. Rocket reached out to him, little wooden fingers grasping around his claws in earnest. 

Groot teetered forward closer, burying his little head in the nape of the raccoonoid’s neck. 

_ No! Don’t touch…. _

He jerked backward, still panting. Claws clenched against the metal floor. He stopped himself from the snarl forming in his throat. 

“Small friend, are you alright?”

“I’ve had worse,” Rocket coughed, remaining on all fours. Groot tried to borrow against him, thin fingers wringing through his fur. “Watch it,” he spat, pushing the small flora away as one of the little hands hit against the metal bolts in his clavicle. “It’s not like either of you did anything to help,” his red gaze slid between the Destroyer and his miniature best friend. “You might be tiny but you could’ve at least tried to stop her!” He glowered at Groot who only pouted and reached for him.  _ Could’ve said something even if you couldn’t fight her.  _ He envisioned Groot’s protective stance between himself and Drax back in that bar in Knowhere. 

“You must not anger our assassin friend, she will kill you for what you’ve said.” 

“Tsch, I’d like to see her try. Damn sadist.” Rocket checked the gun at his belt, and gripped the handle of it for reassurance, turning from the two of them. 

“Where are you going?” Drax’s concern echoed down the hall as the raccoonoid stalked back towards his workroom. The heavy door slammed behind him with a satisfying clang. He snatched up the data pad, furiously pounding the keys. 

“This is Sub…..Subject...8...8913, I have an update.” 

The screen blipped and went fuzzy for a moment before a Nova agent’s face appeared on the screen, helmet obscuring her features. 

“Subject, what is your…”

“Its Gamora,” he seethed. “She’s taken our ship to Kilvore, tryn’ to go after her maniac sister Nebula.” 

“Has she threatened you or your crew?”

“She threatened me,” he snarled with contempt.  _ I’d rip out your spine, rodent.  _ Rocket hung up before the agent could continue. 

“Animal friend, open this door!” Drax’s fists banged against the door, Groot’s whine sounded through the metal. Rocket snatched up his pistols and a few more rounds before opening the door again. 

“Where are you going?”

“After Quill and Gamora.”

“What about Groot? He cannot go into battle.”

Rocket spun on his heel, glaring.

“Then you stay back with him.” 

Without waiting he sprinted down the gangway, into the crowded sea of aliens bustling about Yreka’a. 

\---

Rocket darted through the crowds with relative ease, used to navigating the world of larger people. He kept one hand at his holster as he scanned for any sign of Quill or Gamora. Not that he wanted to see her. Not that he wanted them to see him. Not after being hoisted up by the scruff like a misbehaving dog. The hair on his neck rose at the memory of it.  _ Cold merciless metal clamped around him, cords that electrocuted him when he resisted. The gloved grasp around his neck. One hand restrained him, the other held a scalpel or a needle or some other device.  _ The raccoonoid halted in his tracks, the legs and knees of the crowd becoming blurry in shadows. His vision tunneled and he shook his head, rubbing his paws across his snout. 

“Small angry companion! Wait!”

Rocket sniffed once more, through the ochre of cooking food and thick smoke. The sweat and liquor. He sniffed again, arching his head upward through the throngs of bodies, rounding a corner and down another thoroughfare. Music pumped from a nearby club, merchants shouted their wares in dozens of languages. 

_ Too many smells,  _ still the lingering old too much axe flitted on his nose. He could tell Quill’s scent anywhere. 

“This way, hurry up baldy.” 

“Mmmgggrrrt!” 

“I ain’t waitin’!” 

He darted between the long purple tentacles of a Ktavian, sniffing for any whiff of either Quill or Gamora. 

“Watch it vermin!” 

Rocket growled, one paw tightening around his pistol but he kept it in check,  _ it ain’t worth it.  _

“Quill! Quill!” The raccoonoid scrambled down another series of streets, pausing only to ensure that Drax and Groot hadn’t fallen too far behind. 

_ Flarking...bipeds,  _ he cursed almost tempted to cover more ground on four legs. 

“Quill, damn it wa…” 

Something flashed in the monotone sea of grays and muddled browns. 

_ Shit that can’t be… _ Rocket sniffed,  _ it was.  _ Nebula was here, he scrambled up a nearby market stall, onto the roof, keen eyes scanning through the crowd. There she was...moving in the opposite direction of Quill and Gamora. She moved with complete economy, head down glancing around suspiciously at anyone who dared come close. 

“Furry one! Why are you all the way,”

“Shut up!"

Rocket hissed, reaching for the gun at his belt and looked through the scope, tracing the women's movements as she weaved out of the main streets, back towards the ship docks. His grip fixed around the gun, pulling the trigger back. _One shot, that’s all it’d take._ Nebula flagged down one of the Rskeven workers. Paying him handsomely by the grin he spurted. Rocket adjusted his grip, _it’d be an easy shot, right in the back of the noggin and that cyborg’d be done for good._ He sucked a breath in sharply through his nose, watching her walk up to a crummy little Xandarian transport vessel. _Must’ve stolen it after the battle._ He squeezed the trigger, back as hard it would go _3…..2…_ _flark it!_ Rocket hit the safety mechanism, let go of the trigger heard the empty click. 

“Rocket! What are you doing up there?!” 

Out of his periphery the Xandarian ship sputtered to life. Quickly he reached into his belt, loading his gun with the tracking device.

“Rocket!”

Something hit against his ear. Instinctively his swiveled towards it, his finger slipping. A bang. He recovered in time to watch the projectile launch through the air at the body of the ship as it took off. He watched it hit against the left wing, through the dust and exhaust, only to teeter and slip, falling to the ground in the wake of the ship taking off. Through the haze, a miniature head in the cockpit, Nebula’s eyes fixated on the atmosphere above.

_ Fuck,  _ the ship took off, vaulting through the sky and out of sight to join all the other transports coming and going, lost among them. Rocket shook his head, thrusting the gun back into its holster. 

“Who through that?”

“Rocket,”

Quil, Drax, Groot and Gamora stood below, gazing up at him with expressions ranging from confusion, (Drax and Quill), to irritation, (Gamora). 

The raccoonoid huffed, ears twitching and made his way back down, making sure not to look at the green assassin.

“What gives man? We saw Drax and Groot and assumed you were with them. Quill planted his hands on his hips like a scolding parent. 

“I saw Nebula.”

“Really?” Gamora’s skepticism grated against his last nerve. “Where?”

“She was taking off in a stolen Xandarian transport. I was tryin’ to shoot her but Star-Turd threw off my aim.”

Gamora shifted her displeasure to the human man, only for an instant.

“Did you shoot to kill?”

Rocket smirked, kicking a rock with his boot.

“Nah Gams I didn’t shoot to kill. I was tryn’ to put a tracking device on it.”

\---

Rocket was three sheets to the wind when he heard the knock on the workroom door. Trying to drown the humiliation of being shaken like a misbehaving vermin in front of others, trying to drown the feel of Gamora’s hand around his scruff. They’d regrouped on the ship and he worked out the calculations to approximate Nebula’s trajectory.  _ Towards the Keystone Quadrant.  _ Rocket thought, lifting another can of Uzbellian beer to his muzzle. He never imagined he’d be back in the same Quadrant as _...that place.  _ But Quill, Gamora and Drax has insisted they follow despite his protests; and he sure as shit wasn’t about to divulge his tragic backstory to them like a sucker. 

No, he’d hunker down and bare it, he wouldn’t let Groot out of his sight. He’d stay on the ship, claim to be doing repairs. He’d pack more weapons on him, well, more than usual. His mind spun into strategy mode.  _ How large was the Keystone Quadrant? Where was Halfworld in relation to their current flight path? What if Nebula was going to that very planet? No there was no reason to go there. She wouldn’t. SHE WOULDN”T. But if she did….how many bombs had he made? How much ammo?  _ How could he….

“Rocket?” 

Gamora. He could tell by her scent and the sound of her footfalls. 

Great, the last person he wanted to see. 

“What?”

He snarled, finishing off the beer and throwing the can to the ground. She stepped in gracefully, looking around the crowded room of half-formed weapons and gadgets. 

“Immm grrrrrot!”

Groot waved to her happily as she came closer. 

“Rocket,” the word was heavy as she spoke it. “About my outburst earlier, I sor…”

He held up one paw, eyes unmoving from the work before him. 

“I’mma stop you right there,”

“I’m sorry,” she continued. 

“Well I ain’t,” this time he looked up at her with indignation. “You wanna snap at me? Fine.” Rocket’s ears pressed against his skull. “You wanna choke me out or cut me with those knives of yours, be my guest. I’ll fight you any day.”

The woman’s eyes narrowed with speculation. 

“Do whatever you want,” he rasped. “But you don’t do it in front of them. Or Groot,” he gestured to the flora who had lost interest in the both of them and was trying to reach for a discarded magazine. Gamora bit the inside of her cheek, looking at the baby. “He’s got a new start on things. He don’t need to see that stuff yet.” He watched her nod in agreement and wiped his claws free of oil. 

“I didn’t mean to do those things in front of Groot,” she started. “I didn’t mean to say those things to you.”

“Really? Cuz I did,” he countered. “Thanos might’a taught you to hurt in order to grow but Thanos ain’t taken care of Groot while he gets his growth back...and I ain’t as bad as Thanos.”

This elicited a surprising smile from the assassin.

“No, your not.”

“No killin’ each other in front of the plant capeesh? He’s had enough of killin’....” Rocket swallowed the sour taste of liquor, “and bein’ killed.” Gamora nodded with more vigor this time. He watched her hover on the edge of words, trying to find something to say. 

“Thank you, for not killing Nebula today.” 

"Wasn't my shot to take." Rocket waved a dismissive paw, turning back to his work. She nodded once more, waved to Groot and made to leave, stopping in the doorway.

“You have my word Rocket, I never call you those names again. Nor will I ever...miss-handle you in that manor again. I swear.” 

“Why don’t you go miss-handle Quill?” He laughed.

“I’m serious Rocket,” she pressed.

“Tsch, so am I! He’d love it. He’s clearly in love with you.” 

He looked up from the disassembled gun, a sardonic grin coming to his face for the first time in days at the woman’s face, internally waging the possibility. She gave him a look he couldn’t quite determine and finally left, closing the door behind her.

Rocket worked long into the night, the booze eventually coaxing him into a fitful sleep.

_ And...I shouldn’t have called you Thanos’s daughter… _

When he woke up the next morning, he couldn’t remember if he’d said the apology aloud. Or if it were another one of his drunken thoughts of what he should’ve said.


	7. Interlude: Drax

It was an odd thing, shifting obsessions. Ronan, Ronan, Ronan. The name of the man, the monster; had become as much a part of Drax as the prominent and permanent as his tattoos. Or so he thought, but now he was dead. Destroyed. The heinous man who had murdered his family, at last undone. Not by Drax himself, collectively. Killed by himself and his new family. The Destroyer might not understand metaphors, but he knew a great deal about poetic justice. And now at last, revenge fulfilled. Well, almost fulfilled. Thanos was still out there, somewhere. Yet surprisingly enough the knowledge of that did not gnaw at him nearly as much persistence as he anticipated. Let Thanos plot, let him linger and play his little games. Let him think he is safe. The Destroyer had time to wait. He’d make the most of this odd little family while he could. Gamora would inevitably draw him closer to Thanos with her search for Nebula.

He’d been wrong, he realized, about his assumptions of her. She was not in fact a woman of the night, as Quill had explained. He tried to make it up to her, to apologize. Not with words of course because words were slippery and inadequate at best-but through action. When he stunned Nebula with the Hadron enforcer. Whether the green woman accepted his apology, only time would tell. He’d been wrong about the human man too. He was not as much of an imbecile as he’d initially proven himself to be. Rather he as a food, but a fool with a good heart who valued family in the truest sense of the word. Drax had also been wrong about the dumb lumbering tree. He was no husk of a brute lacking intelligence. In fact, the tree man was perhaps wiser than them all. Of course he could not apologize to the old Groot. But he could be kind to this one. Try to makeup for the error of his ways. Yes Drax had been too presumptuous about the lot of them. But he’d been right about the miserable furry one. He indeed lacked a single iota of respect for anyone or anything, including himself. The ornery animal continued to laud and hem and haw about things he had no knowledge of. He was very much like Drax himself. Wounded and sorrowful, so afraid of that sorrow that - be it with guns or knives - he fought anyone and anything that reminded him of it. But one could not fight all the time. Drax knew that better than anyone. 

When he stood over the bodies of his enemies, wounds still bleeding, when he looked around at the chaos he had wrought, only to realize it had not changed a thing Ovet and Kameria were still dead. 

The grumpy ringtail held that same vacant look in his beady eyes when he’d knelt among the wreckage of his best friend. Dax had dared to sit beside him to apologize. Not for his assumptions, but for something worse. The inexplicable merciless happenstance of chance. The cruelty of indifferent fate. That Groot had been the one to realize their predicament on the Dark Aster. That Groot had to die. The senselessness that it had been his planet Ronan chose to destroy, The randomness that Ovat and Kameria were caught trying to flee. Drax reached out to comfort the wretched little beast to apologize for his loss because he knew the rest of the wouldn’t give either of them any pity. They had all lost, he supposed. Quill his mother and his life on Earth,Gamora lost her birth parents and any chance at being her own person, until now. Groot lost his life. The strange little beast lost the only other creature in the galaxy who cared a fig for him. 

These things Drax thought on as he practiced with his knives. While he cooked and while he watched little Groot. It was amusing, he realized; what one could think about when revenge and violence were not crowding one's mind. Well not entirely at least. Not his own revenge. Instead Drax imagined for each of his team members, their own revenge. Well not Quill, or Groot. But for Gamora and angry rodent. He imagined the assassin at long last killing her devious sister so that she would no longer have to live in fear of being killed herself. He imagined the irritated experiment getting his own revenge on whoever it was who created him. Each of these acts of vengeance would be glorious and bloody and everything the bounty hunter and the green woman would want. They were similar, the Destroyer realized. Both Gamora and the drunken rat operated in the bases of suspicion. Assuming everyone had something they were hiding, that everyone would seek to take advantage of them. Both were not easy to trust and made no effort to appear trustworthy. Neither of them were much for emotions. Both were far from finding any peace. But Drax hoped that they were not beyond it. Something told him that they weren’t. They too spoke with actions. He’d witnessed Gamora’s slip of a smile and twinkle of the eye at one of Quill’s jokes. He’d seen Rocket balance a watering can over Groot’s pot with such attentive dexterity he could hardly believe it from the manic creature. He’d watched them each try to be patient, try to parent Groot with gentleness and love despite both of them having no parental figures to speak of. Perhaps there was no need for gruesome vengeance. Perhaps living was enough. For some people, not him. Drax the Destroyer would have his revenge. Eventually. But for now he too would live his life.


	8. Realizations

But now it's just another show

You leave 'em laughing when you go

And if you care, don't let them know

Don't give yourself away

\---

I've looked at life from both sides now

From win and lose and still somehow

It's life's illusions I recall

I really don't know life at all

_ -Joni Mitchell - Both Sides Now _

  
  


Gamora huffed, rolling and felt the vibration of her blade against Drax’s collide with a cutting force. 

“You’re using too much force,” she instructed, doding another blow and swinging her sword around hitting the tattooed man with the blunt edge of the blade across his side. He grunted and rushed at her once more, one knife arching upward, the other coming around the left in what would’ve been a deadly motion had she not had the time to backstep, blocking the descending blade with the protective metal guards affixed to each forearm. Out of the corner of her eye, Peter sat watching the two of them, captivated. 

“I thought you were a destroyer man,” he muttered between bites of chips. “But Gamora is really kicking your butt here.” 

Drax frowned and made another attempt to swipe at her from behind but she ducked, grabbing his wrist and twisting it, just enough to surprise him. He dropped the knife on reflex and snatched it before it hit the ground. 

“I am not surprised,” Drax responded unphased. He jerked his arm out of her grip in one practiced move. “She is a most noble fighter. Perhaps better than I and certainly better then you Quill.” 

The human in question nodded, rifling through the crumbs of the chip bag. Gamora watched him with a small smile, he’s so goofy. So….

Something hard knocked against her hip. She reacted instantly, arching her sword above her head and bringing it down upon Drax, blunt end facing his neck. In the hold she used his own mass against him, sending him sprawling on the cold deck of the ship and kept a foot on his shoulder blades, the end of her sword poised just above the nape of his neck. 

_ Go on, the fight’s not over until she begs for mercy. Nebula.  _

_ “Don’t….please...Gamora…,” those black eyes staring into her. Thano’s surveying the two of them like toys.  _

_ “Go on Gamora,.” _

_ “Gamora….” a nervous glance towards their father. “Please ...you know what he’ll do to me.”  _

“Gamora! I said, I yield!” Drax laughs while he rolls over and only then does she remove the blade from his neck, her boot from his back. She eased up, coming out of a daze, shivering. But Drax’s large wide smile fills her narrow vision, extending a large rough hand. “That was a good match daughter of…..Gamora. I look forward to the day when I might best you.” She studied hand in front of her. Open and welcoming, ready to be held. Companionable. Trusting. 

_ It was a good fight. A fair fight. Take his hand.  _ She sheathed her sword, Nebula’s pleas echoing in her head. Thano’s gaze tearing into her. 

“Y..you’re welcome Drax. Good match.” 

He keeps his head open, expectant but Gamora settles for crossing her arms and nodding to him in what she hopes is a friendly enough gesture. The destroyer thankfully gets the hint and closes his palm into a fist. Sour shame wells in her stomach.

“Gggggrrt!” Groot shrieks from his pot, wiggling madly trying to dislodge himself from the soil. Gamora can’t help but grin and pats the little flora on the top of his head affectionately.  _ Groot is safe. He's a little, he can’t hurt me…..for now.  _ Small wooden hands grasped her wrist so delicately she is afraid that if she moves, the little fingers will crack and snap. “Grrrttt!” He chirps, content. 

“You and Drax should practice together more often,” Peter’s voice so close to her makes the hairs on the back of her neck raise in apprehension. She forces herself not to reach for her sword. But him standing behind her like that, in her blind spot. He could attack at any moment.  _ Stop it, he will not attack you.  _

“He is too reckless, there is no deliberateness to his movements. Just reckless bloodlust.”

Peter only shrugged. She flinched, feeling the lightness of his fingers playing against her elbow. 

“Sorry, I...I didn’t mean.”

“It’s alright,” Gamora reassured. The shame welling inside of her again. “I didn’t mean to,”

“You don’t have to apologize Gamora,” his warm eyes looked at her with possibility.  _ He has a strange innocence about him.  _

“I am Groot!” 

Gamora and Peter turned towards Groot in unified surprise. Peter was at the sapling’s side in an instant, picking up his pot with glee. 

“Groot! Buddy you did it,” he beamed, “you talked!”

“I am Grooot!” 

“Was that Groot?”

Drax popped his head into the room and bounded over Peter and the flora, wrapping his muscular arms around the two of them. 

“At last! I knew you would soon begin your annoying phrase! Though your limited vocabulary is irritating, I am glad you are able to speak again!” 

“I am Groot!” 

“Someone get Rocket!” 

Gamora’s lighted heart instantly plummeted, 

“Peter I don’t think that’s a good….” 

As if on cue the raccoonoid dove into the room. 

_ Enhanced hearing,  _ Gamora momentarily grumbled. 

“Groot!” Drax let go just in time for the raccoonoid to vault up on the table and snatch Groot’s pot from Peter’s hands. “What did he say?!”

“What did he say?” Peter gauffed, “I’ll give you one guess.”

“Shut up Star-Shit,” 

Rocket’s red eyes instantly went back to Groot, who babbled incoherently again. 

_ Tell him, he has a right to know.  _ Gamora bit her lip watching Rocket’s elated face beaming at Groot. She sucked a breath, searching uncomfortably for the words. It was a rare time when she did not know what to say, considering that her words had been a means of survival just as well as her weapons. 

“Rocket,” 

“I am Groot!” Groot shouted happily. The raccoonoid looked up at her with _ ….trepidation?  _

“What did he say?” Drax demanded. 

“I am Groot, I am Groot!” The little flora tried to twist around, pointing with tiny fingers at the green woman. 

“He….he said Gamora,” Rocket explained, confused. “Groot! Groot buddy, look at me! What’s my name?” 

Gamora watched Groot ignore him and instead stare upward at her and Peter. “Groot!” Rocket barked, “man what’s my name?” 

Groot’s silence held Gamora in a constricting hold,  _ I should have told him sooner. He’d be better prepared.  _

“Groot!” Rockets claws twisted the pot around, his voice cracking in increasing desperation. “Groot! What is my name man?” 

Gamora’s heart raced, as Groot cocked his head to the side in blank confusion. Rocket’s ears flicked downward, chest deflating. She could not see his pupils for he had none, but she didn’t need to. The raccoonoid’s eyes widened, mouth agape. She looked away at the sight of his implants, sagging with his shoulders. 

“Groot…..”  _ begging.  _ “Come on bud, please! Xandar remember?! The orb, that collector guy who was gonna turn you into a chair!” Rocket was trembling now, searching the flora’s face for any sign of recognition. She could feel Peter’s eyes on her. 

“What’s going on?” He asked gently, though something in his tone told Gamora he already knew. 

“Groot!” Rocket tried again, tears rimmed his eyes. “Halfworld!” He choked out, “getting free? That bounty on G’rva! The Lazy Rsket!”  _ Pretty sure that’s a bar,  _ Gamora remembered from researching her targets. Rocket shook the pot now, sending Groot swooshing along with it, Drax stepped forward only to be cut off by Peter’s warning hand. “The bounty of Zarflaktn! Groot! The...the labs...that prison break on Harmut!” Groot, giggled with the to and throw motion of the pot, waving his arms playfully in stark contrast to Rocket’s mounting fury.  _ He’s barely holding it together. He’s going to snap.  _ “You remember don’t you?! That...that time on Parnas…” 

Gamora had not the slightest idea as to what “that time on Parnas,” was referring to, but whatever it was it was enough to make Groot’s lack of acknowledgement into a devastating blow. Rocket drew backward, chest heaving.

“Rocket,” Peter dared step forward, “it’s it’s gonna be okay man. Groot’s just excited is all! It’s okay.” But the raccoonoid only stared at Groot, frozen. Breath rapidly accelerating to the point where Gamora wondered if he was in danger of passing out. 

“Furry one, what is the matter?”

“G….groot…?” The tears behind Rocket’s leaked forward, his gaze unfocused. “Groot…” 

“Rocket,” Gamora found her voice though it shook. “Breathe...Peter’s right. It will be alright, Groot’s just getting his words back.” The raccoonoid shook his head, fists clenched, body as tight as a bow string. She knew the posture. He was either going to snap and attack them or run. The raccoonoid glared at her through tears,  _ for the second time.  _ She realized with a start. 

“Groot’s probably just tired,” Peter tried again with an heir of assurance that did nothing to assure. Rocket only shook his head, cybernetic bolts going up and down, pulling against his skin with a taunt cruelty Gamora knew too well. He let out a hiss at Groot’s attempts to reach for him, and took off out of the room, dashing on all fours. 

“I ammm Grooo!” 

Drax picked the little flora up, restraining him from his attempts to crawl after the raccoonoid. 

Gamora planted her hands on her hips, turning from them back to the flight deck. 

_ Beep beep beep, beep, beep, beep.  _

“Nebula’s ship,” Gamora raced to the cockpit, frantically looking through the windows up into the blackness beyond. Of course there was no actual telling if it was her ship. The tracker had fallen off, but she’d set up alerts for any ships that came within the radius of Rocket’s calculations. 

“Is that ...?” Peter followed her gaze towards the small ship off the starboard side. Gamora swallowed, eyes feverishly scrutinizing the object as critically as she could.  _ I thought I’d have more time ...a _ million thoughts raced through her mind.

“That’s her,” Gamora spun on her heel, sword in hand as she made a B-line for one of the escape pods. 

“Wait, Gamora!” The grip on her hand made her stop, eyes bulging in predetermined fury. 

“What?”

“We’ll come with you!” 

“Absolutely not,” she shook off his grip in an instant. “It’s too dangerous.” 

“We just saved Xandar!” 

“Nebula’s worse,” Gamora glared, punching open the codes to the hatch that led to the pod. 

“Just, gimme a second we’ll get trail her for awhile to make sure she doesn’t have backup and then fly the ship right up close in her blindspot as far as we can. We’ll disable her engines and force her to come out.”

“I appreciate it Peter, but I can’t risk that.”

He sighed, conceding to her without further argument. 

“We’ll follow close behind, take a com control in case you need anything.” 

She hopped into the pod, snatching one of the portable com controls and punched the release. 

“Thank you.” She watched Peter’s face as the roof of the ship came sliding down, watching his careful eyes for as long as she could. 

“Wait!” Peter dove, one arm grabbing the descending roof with a metallic groan. 

“What?!” 

“Just...be careful okay?” 

Gamora sighed, touching his hand gently. 

“I will,” she pried his grip off the ship. “Now let go.” 

He relented and stepped back as the door shut, the pod released, shooting out after Nebula. Peter’s face looming in her mind. She tightened her grip around the steering grips, the stolen Xandarian ship still drifting slowly through the cosmos. As she neared, a smug smile lit her face. 

_ Nebula, I never thought you’d be so foolish. You stole a courier ship.  _ It bore no external weaponry. No cannons, no guns. Nothing. For now her sister was defenseless.  _ I will not kill her. I’ll...I’ll make her see reason, take her back to our ship. I’ll talk to her. Just talk.  _ She thrust the pod forward, glancing at the sword on her hip. Gamora swallowed the impulsive bloodlust, shame stirring in her gut. 


	9. Grief Well Spent

_ You've got to know when to hold 'em Know when to fold 'em _

_ Know when to walk away, And know when to run _

_ You never count your money When you're sittin' at the table _

_ There'll be time enough for countin' When the dealin's done _

_ \---- _

_ Every gambler knows That the secret to survivin' _

_ Is knowin' what to throw away And knowin' what to keep _

_ 'Cause every hand's a winner And every hand's a loser _

_ And the best that you can hope for is to die _

_ in your sleep _

Kenny Rogers - The Gambler 

_ Groot couldn’t be dead, he couldn’t...the damn tree regrows his limbs!  _ Rocket once saw the flora heal half his torso in a matter of hours! Sure, so getting blown to bits might take a little longer but...it had to be the same Groot. _ It had to be _ . The bolts in his collar twinged with every movement as his chest rapidly puffed in and out, in and out. He couldn’t breathe, the sharp sting of the metal against his tender scarred skin brought him back from darker thoughts. He ran a clawed hand...paw…? He didn’t know, his own body was forign to him. 

He had to do something, anything-but that little flora out there, the one his enhanced ears could hear crying for him from across the ship, that wasn’t Groot. Wasn’t  _ his  _ Groot. Wasn’t his best friend. 

“Flark it I’m the one who’s an idiot,” he muttered aloud pacing frantically around the engine room searching for something, anything to build or-more aptly-destroy.  _ Should’ve known it wasn’t the same Groot. Should’ve known from the second he opened those little eyes that he wasn’t the same.  _ The old Groot, the one who had died to save them, the one he’d yelled at and berated, that Groot had deep soulful eyes, shimmering with emotion. Making up for such a limited vocabulary. 

The old flora colossus looked at all beings with the same care and compassion, it didn’t matter if they were reckless muscle bound destroyers, or cybernetically enhanced assassins ..., _ or someone’s experiment.  _ Groot treated everyone with care, assuming the best of them, seeing the best in them.  _ The old Groot,  _ Rocket picked up a discarded gun and began re-arranging the parts in a frenzy, his Groot, the one who looked at him with ...well, Rocket didn’t have the words in his own vocabulary to describe the emotions there. This new baby one though, looked at him with eager hope and ignorance.  _ Innocence.  _ Rocket stuffed the magazine into the barrel of the gun and tested the grip. It needed a longer barrel. He needed to do something, anything to distract himself. He sniffed, the crisp scent of burning wood still lingered in his snout.  _ Charring, crackling wood, blackening in the flames. Husks of petrified branches.  _

“Rocket! Rocket we need forward thrusters now!” 

The raccoonoid sniffed, whiskers twitching. He dropped the gun with a clatter. 

“Why?!” He snarled, 

“Just do it!” 

Rocket seethed, clenching his fists and cursed. He didn’t want to look at the little flora again, didn’t want to see the look on their faces, the pity. The wariness. He shoved the engine room door open with a grunt and scurried back up to the cockpit. The little flora poised on the back of Quill’s chair, small head turning to him.

“Imm ggg….”

Rocket’s stomach toiled. He swallowed, vaulting into the co-pilot seat, doing his best to ignore the little flora’s placating eyes on him. 

Where were they? How far had they traveled since he’d stormed away? His heart raced, breath hitching with panic as his eyes scanned the vacant space before them, only stars and darkness. A few asteroids.  _ No planets, no sign of Half…. _

“We need forward thrusters ahead and stealth mode activated. No visual, no audio.” 

“What is this ab…” the raccoonoid’s words died in his throat,  _ that ship.  _ The one from Kilvore. So Gamora had found Nebula. His calculations were right.  _ Fuck you Gamora.  _ He snarled, tapping across the keyboard. The cockpit shuddered as the stealth mode kicked in. Unless that transport had enhanced specs there was no way the Benatar would be spotted. From out the large windows the Benatar’s own pod drifted closer to Nebula’s stolen ship.

“You let her use one of the pods?!” Rocket curled his claws around the steering controls in fury.

“I didn’t let her do anything! She can do what she wants! She can handle it!” Quill shot back, his eyes unmoving from where Gamora steered the pod carefully closer. 

“I am groo!”

“Someone shut him up!” 

Rocket hissed, trying to ignore the sound of the little one’s voice echoing in his mind. 

“You must be quiet small Groot!” Drax admonished loudly leaning over his and Quill’s seats. The raccoonoid rolled his eyes, anger simmering as Quill flew closer. 

\---

Gamora’s pod docked without hindrance. Beside him, Quill’s shoulders relaxed briefly. Rocket watched the smaller vessel lock on, the lights going dark.  _ So she made it in.  _

“Why doesn’t she just walk in there and shoot that crazy cyborg in the back of the skull?” He mused, leaning back in his chair and kicking his feet up on the navigation screen. 

“That is not honorable,” Drax commented. 

“Grooo!”

Rocket’s ears flattened. 

“Can we get on with this already?” 

He straightened himself, upping the accelerator, drifting closer until the Benatar hovered just over the Kilvorian ship, dwarfing it in comparison. 

“Alright,” Quill strapped a pistol to his belt. “We’ll go down there. But this is Gamora’s fight. We won’t interfere unless she asks. We’re just here for back up alright? Drax. You cool with that?”

Drax looked up from his knives, grinning devilishly but nodded. Rocket rolled his eyes. 

“Rocket, stay with the ship.” Quill released the hatch and exited without looking back. The raccoonoid looked to the Destroyer and the baby flora who looked onward with curiosity. 

“Drax, stay with the ship. Make sure Gr-he doesn’t do anything.” 

“But Quill just told me to,” 

Rocket slammed the button for the hatchway to open, gripping his pistols preparing to jump. 

“Yeah and I’m tellin’ you to stay.” 

Without waiting for an answer the raccoonoid made his way down into the other ship. Small and cramped in the vents. He sniffed, _sweat._ _Adrenaline. Gamora….and Nebula._ He reached for his walkie,

“Quill I got eyes on em.”

He shuffled through the vents, following the increasing sounds of distress. Light reached him up ahead, slitted through the metal grating. He hovered, watching the tops of their heads. Nebula advanced, screaming something incoherent as she jabbed at Gamora. He watched them, the fight driving away down the hall as each tried her best to subdue the other. 

“Rocket...Rocket you there? Wait I thought Drax…?”

“Relax, I got eyes on em’” he repeated, reaching for his belt using the small laser pointed pen to burn through the metal grate, into the single main hall of the tiny ship. 

“Nebula! Arrg! S..stop this!”  _ Clash!  _

_ Fuck!  _ Rocket ducked behind a corner, hand going to his pistol. Gamora let out a cry of triumph...or pain, it was oddly indistinguishable. Nebula’s cybernetic leg stepped close to his hiding place as she took another strike, then disappeared just as quickly, lunging for her sister again. Rocket peeked his head around the corner. 

The two of them fought like dancers, partners. Intuitively knowing each other's movements. Gamora, with her longsword moved with efficiency. Aiming to take long, broad strokes meant to slash and slice. She spun, seeing an opening and went to drive the edge of the blade into her sister's shoulder, but missed. Nebula shoved her against the wall roughly. Rocket felt the impact of her body the flimsy metal. Vibrating outward. 

She regained momentum, wielding the blade as if it were an extension of herself. Nebula spared with a single metal electric rod. Her movements were unrelenting, unplanned on her passionate attack. Rocket’s tail twitched in a nervous tick. Gamora and Nebula ran together, hit, struck then darted away, only to clash back together again. His heart caught at the loud zap of Nebula’s weapon hitting against Gamora’s sword. The Zen Wobari woman parried, jumped back, blocked another hit. Her muscles flexing and clenching. Rocket could smell the cybernetics of both of them amid their sweat and anger. Nebula advanced, relentless, grunts of agitation echoing. She lifted the staff above her head and brought it down. 

_ Shit...  _ Rocket felt his stomach curl watching Gamora slide out of the way just in time; uncommonly uncoordinated. 

“Rocket! Rocket come in Rocket!” Quill’s urgent voice crackled through the com. The raccoonoid ignored it, training eyes on the two of them. Gamora was on the defense, trying to shield herself from the person who had tormented her for so long.  _ Haunted her day and night. A past she was trying to run from, never looking back. Just running.  _

“Nebula! You must s...stop!” 

The cyborg woman rushed at her, whipping her staff around in a circle of electric blue, it collided with the sword once more and she leaned in close to Gamora. 

“You never did!” 

“Arg!” Gamora shoved the staff away with all her might, cybernetic implants in her shoulders and arms lifting just barely out of her flesh. His own implants itched at the sight of it. Still Nebula relentlessly attacked her sister. Someone who, it dawned on him with a pang of realization-had, at least in part been an element in her own cybernetic torture. Gamora herself had admitted that Thanos only took Nebula apart because she continued to lose sparring session. Somehow, he’d been both of them. Fought on both sides. 

As if on cue, Nebula took a swing, electric prong of her staff slamming into Gamora’s right arm. Burning flesh and metal scorched Rocket’s nose. Gamora’s body arched backward, white blue veins of electric current running through her cybernetic wiring. The sound that escaped her lips part shock part pain. Rocket’s fur stood on edge, claws curling around his gun. The silver implants through her glowed with the charge of the shock. 

_ Bright lights ...cold meal. The electric prongs. Steril smells. Pain, sharp and all through his limbs. Forign pain. Pain he had no control over. The crude metal in his flesh, bolted into his skeleton.  _

Gamora’s scream reached him even amid the images of Halfworld. 

“Flark it! Quill! Come in Quill! It’s Gams! She’s…” 

The humie didn’t have to be told once. In a moment another blast hit. This one flying past Nebula’s head just shy of her ear. Quill fired rapidly, all care for staying out of the fight apparently gone to hell. Rocket stepped out from around the corner, just in front of Quill as he barreled forward. Nebula’s keen eyes narrowed, watching the human, then flicked down to the raccoonoid. She snarled, turning on her heel and running away. Rocket took aim, firing, cursing as each blast of the stunning bullets struck against the narrow halls. 

“Gamora!” Quill’s cry snapped Rocket’s attention back to Gamora, who now crumpled to the ground. The metal inlaid into her cheek bones flashes and sparked with the remnants of the electricity. The raccoonoid reloaded his blaster in a frenzy, dashing over to the assassin.

“Gamora? Gamora come on, talk to me!” The humie’s frantic pleading dissipated as Rocket scanned her.  _ No external wounds.  _ He reached out tentatively to her lower arm, just below the elbow and hissed, retracting his paw.  _ Hot to the touch.  _ Quill shook her gently, no response.

“Quill,” Rocket knelt beside him, “undo the back of this will yah?”

It took the man several seconds to respond. Finally breaking his gaze from Gamora. 

“What...your jumpsuit?” Rocket nodded, holding his breath, bracing for the feel of the cold air against the tender raw flesh of his back. Unused to being exposed. 

“That’s enough,” he growled. Quill stopped. Rocket did not need to turn around to feel the eyes of pity and bewilderment on him. He shrugged it off, for now. 

“Got anything sharp on you? A Knife?”

“Uhh, Drax has a knife.” 

Rocket’s red eyes glared at him,

“Drax is back on the ship. We can’t move her like this. Plus, you sure you wanna trust Drax’s dexterity?” 

Quill nodded. Pulling out a tiny knife from his belt. Somewhere in the distance Rocket heard the escape pod Gamora had taken, unlatching.  _ Nebula’s getting away.  _ Gamora’s head lolled. 

“Your gonna make an incision in her right arm. Just below the elbow.” Predictably Quill’s face contorted with anger. 

“Are you insane? We’re not performing surgery! Not here!” 

“You want to save Gamora or not?” He snarled, “I don’t got time to explain how bioengineering, cybernetic and electronics interface with organic tissue and can be transmutable between organisms of different species! Let’s just say clock’s tickin!” 

Quill’s lips narrowed, looking at Gamora with concern. 

“If you don’t listen to me, she’s going to be as good as dead!” Quill’s frown only deepened. Rocket looked at him, “do you trust me?” He held the man’s gaze for a moment, Quill’s own eyes narrowed, unnerved. Humies and other creatures always did when confronting a creature with no pupils. Quill took a deep breath, then nodded. 

“Good. Then make the cut. Not a big one. But not too tiny. And don’t worry, her neurotransmitters are down so she won’t feel a thing.” 

Quill tentatively lay the assassin down on her back, carefully. Lovingly. Rocket watched the man hesitate, poising the knife above her skin before making a small cut, his own hands trembling. The raccoonoid swallowed. How many times had he seen his own flesh cut and blood pucker to the surface? He took a deep breath, forcing himself to look for accuracy's sake. 

“That’s good,” he scrutinized the fresh wound. Gently probing around the skin on either side. There it was. “See that? The black thing next to the bone?” He pointed, Quill’s pale face bit the inside of his tongue. 

“Yeah.”

“That’s a polysynthetic cybernetic cable with vibranium metal alloy. You take that out, just the end of it.”

“You want me to….to stick my fingers in there?” 

“You want Drax to do it? We can’t move her like this.” 

Quill nodded stiffly. 

“Good. Now wait till I turn around. There’s gonna be a little knob at the end of that wire. Unscrew it, then…” he let out a shuddering breath. “Just below my neck on my spine there’s a...port for…” he clenched his hands trying to stifle the shaking that had overcome him. “For external wires. Plug that wire from Gamora’s arm into that little port. Wait for a spark, she’ll come back.”

“And you?”

“I’ll be fine. Worse comes to worst I’ll pass out for a few hours. Just make sure you unplug it as soon as she wakes up otherwise we’ll both be fried.

“That’s not very reassuring,” Quill quipped. Still he gently reached into the wound and Rocket stiffened as the man’s apt hands unscrewed the small port in his back. The tugging yanked at his flesh despite the humie’s care. Rocket winced. 

“Ready?”

_ No.  _ The raccoonoid nodded. Closing his eyes.  _ One heart beat ...two heart beat. Thump thump, thump thump, thump _ \--Stinging white. Electricity ripped through him. The needle arms of the current coursing, firing up and down his spine. His arms flailed, tail twitching. He curled instinctively into himself.  _ This is for Gamora dammit it.  _ He tried to remind himself through the fire storm of burning in his belly. In his skull.  _ Burning like the scalpels, the agony like the procedures. He let out some painful sound he could not hear, an animalistic whine or yowl.  _ Another sound joined his own, another scream.  _ Gamora.  _

Instantly the agony released like breaking a dam. Rocket shook his head, feeling the pressure of the wire abate. He blinked, trying to clear his vision. He covered his eyes with his paws for a moment, feeling the panicked thumping of his own heart. Finally he steadied himself, turning around. 

Quill helped Gamora to her feet, the woman’s eyes were wide with confusion.

“Let’s get her back to the ship we need to get this bandaged up,” he wrapped an arm around her. “Are you good?” 

Rocket nodded, hardly hearing the words. 

They stumbled their way back to where the Benatar had locked in. Rocket climbing upward slowly, lethargically. His arms and legs and tail aching with every movement. Pangs of electricity still set off through his nervous system. 

“I am g...g...groo!” 

The baby flora colossus exclaimed as Drax lifted the hatchway open.

“I am groo..oooo...ot!”

Little wooden hands reached out to him against his legs. 

“Knock it off,” Rocket moved the baby flora aside. 

“Gamora! We are glad you have returned to us once more!” He moved over to her other side, placing his large arm around her waist. “We thought you were dead!”

“She could’ve been if it wasn’t for Rocket,” Quill recognized, offering a small smile. Gamora blinked slowly, vacant eyes looking down at the raccoonoid who panted for breath, leaning against the closed hatchway, trying to distract himself from the screaming in his own cybernetic implants. 

Quill began making his way into the ship, “Rocket are you….?”

He pushed himself off the wall with effort,

“M’fine. 

“Good, we gotta get her to the medbay.” He and Drax moved slowly down the hall. 

_ No….no.  _

Rocket sucked a breath, shaking. 

“Not the med bay!” 

The humie looked over his shoulder.

“Why not? She’s hurt she needs medical attention!” Gamora’s head lolled, leaning against his shoulder. Drax shifted his weight, still firmly holding Gamora. The raccoonoid planted his hands on his hips, indignant. 

“You want her to wake up on a cold metal bed, surrounded by wires and monitors and contraptions like the kind Thanos probably used on her?” His voice cracked, “She’s gonna come to, and when she does, she's not gonna know where she is or what’s going on,” his words came rushing like blood from a wound. “All she’s gonna know is that she’s in pain.”  _ And scared out of her damn mind.  _

Peter looked at Gamora with ineffable emotion Rocket didn’t have the training or conditioning to understand. Some kind of love he guessed. He turned back to the raccoonoid, 

“Alright, we’ll get her to the common room. There’s a couch there.” 


	10. Fear and Loathing in Lax Vrens

_Another head hangs lowly, child is slowly taken_

_And the violence, caused such silence, who are we mistaken?_

_But you see, it's not me, it's not my family_

_In your head, in your head, they are fighting_

_With their tanks, and their bombs and their bombs, and their guns_

_In your head, in your head they are crying_

Zombie - The Cranberries 

  
  


“Peter,” Gamora heard the muffled sound of shuffling through a haze. Something ached in her right arm. Or was it her left? She didn’t know; her own body was forign to her. Throbbing, hot pulsing coming from somewhere. Gamora breathed, _good no pain there._ She knew all too well, how to go through the motions when waking from a wounded fog. _Lie still, barely breathe. Get your thoughts as straight as can be. Test your brain first so you can reassure yourself that even if your body is broken, you still have your mind._ She moved her fingers next, _something soft. A couch or a bed?_ She shuffling sound was closer now, she registered it like voices underwater. Gamora held her breath in anticipation as she always did when waking up to discover new types of pain. No matter how many enhancements or procedures, her body continued to surprise her with a diversity of agonies. _What would this one be?_ She tried to move her toes, at least what she hoped was her toes. Everything was heavy, cumbersome, lethargic. 

“Hey! Don’t move!” Someone snapped.

“Peter?” She willed her eyes to focus but the raspy voice answered before her sight cleared.

“Tsch, sorry to disappoint.”

R...Rocket? The thought of him elicited hot irritation. 

“Wh ...where's...P...Peter?”

“He’s with Groo--he’s with the plant,” Rocket twitched his tail dismissively and began examining her burning arm. Gamora grit her teeth, pushing herself upward on the pillows. _Have to get up…._ she had to push herself. Had to show the nebulous “them” that she was still alert and ready to fight before Nebula came back...or Proxima, or any of them came to test her again. 

“Don’t!” Rocket jumped up on the couch beside her, small paws reaching to grab her shoulders and push her back down. He halted with a lurch, stopping himself before the little claws could touch her. He paused, looking at her with…. _trepidation? Fear?_ His arms fell lamely to his sides. “Just don’t move! Do you know how long it took to check your mods? Don’t screw it up.” His beatty red eyes examined her arm again. “How do you feel?”

“I’ll be fine,” she whispered, closing her eyes. The lights, even dim-were harsh. 

“I didn't ask how you'd be. I asked how you feel.” 

Despite the pain, Gamora found herself grinning, cracking one eye open. 

“Careful, someone might actually think you care.” 

“Yeah well I don’t,” he barked harshly, then sighed, “it’s...its G...Groot. He don’t like it when his friends get hurt. Especially when those friends have been hurt enough already.”

Gamora pulled her feverish mind back to the present, his words glossing through her muddled consciousness and getting stuck there with the rest of her jumbled thoughts. She opened her mouth again, tasting flaky cotton dryness. Rocket finished examining the bandage on her arm with a satisfied click of his tongue. 

“I’ll get Quill,” he leapt off the couch. “And quit movin’! You’ll make it worse,” he shouted without turning back. She watched him exit the common area, head the small thump of his feet down the hall until at last it faded away.

She savored the momentary silence, closing her eyes against the reality of waking. Her cybernetics flared with irritation, the wires under her skin in her damaged arm still thrummed with electricity. Nebula’s face dominated her mind each time she attempted to rest. _She’s not here...Thanos...he’s not here...breathe. Your on the Benatar._ She bawled her hand into a fist against the excruciating stinging in her arm.

“Damn you Nebula,” she’d been so close. So careful. 

_“You...you let him do this to me!”_ Her sister’s howl echoed in her mind. Gamora glanced at the wound Rocket had healed, crude stitches. She pressed her fingers tenderly to the swollen seam of her flesh, gritting her teeth against the sharp pain. 

“Knock, knock,” 

“Peter!” She swallowed her enthusiasm too late, heat rising in her cheeks. If he noticed her blush, he did not make a show of it. Instead sticking his hands in his pockets and shuffling forward like a nervous child. 

“I’d ask you how you’re feeling but you look pretty miserable.” That provoked a small grin, that was the thing about Peter. She didn’t have to hide anything from him, he just knew. She shifted her weight allowing for him to sit down on the side of the bed. 

“Any clue where she’d go next? Peter shrugged, shaking his head. 

“Didn’t see. I was too busy trying to find you.” 

Gamora nodded, she couldn’t fault him for that. _She probably made for Sineer, it’s the closest habitable planet that will have a fuel station. If we push it now we can make it before…_

Something warm and soft touched against the top of her hand. She went rigid, expecting a scratch or a yank or the plunge of a cold needle but stopped. Peter’s finger gently stroked over her knuckles. 

“We already set coordinates for Sineer, all you gotta do is sit back and try to heal up.” Something warm rose in her belly, making it flutter. He smiled, hands remarkably soft for someone who dual wielded pistols. 

“Thank you Peter, you’re always so….good.”She spoke the words before she could think them through. But it was true, as silly as it was. His smile widened and she held her breath as he leaned forward and kissed her cheek. A small innocent peck. He squeezed her hand for a moment, then patted it. 

“Get some rest Gams. I’ll let you know when we get close.” 

\---

She persuaded Peter to let her off the couch the next day, though her arm stung and cybernetics snapped periodically- Gamora moved with grace through the ship. Glad to be able to walk around again. Back to some semblance of normalcy. Even Drax offered her a gentle pat on the shoulder. 

“I am glad you were not too badly injured.” 

“Thanks Drax,” she murmured, somewhat awkwardly at her data pad. _There’s no guarantee she’s on Sineer,_ she flipped through the nearby planets. _Evah, Resmoa, Halfworld…._

_Crash!_

“I’m….Groooot!!”

“Fuck! Groot!” 

_Something’s wrong Rocket’s gotten mad at Groot before but ...something_ in the tenor of that snarl rose goosebumps on his flesh. Gamora looked up, meeting Drax’s equally concerned face. She flew down the hall and halted, heart dropping.

Groot stood a few paces from Rocket, large eyes filled with sap, staring in abject terror. He clutched his left side, small hand covering something Gamora could not see. 

“Small angry friend!” Drax boomed, scooping a shaking Groot up into his hold, “what happ…” he faltered, eyes scanning the floor to Rocket’s data pad, only slightly cracked and blinking with at least five missed messages. Gamora’s breath caught. It wasn’t the data pad, it was the shard of bark lying beside it.

 _Is that….?_ She glared over at Rocket who’s trembling paws held the answer. Sharp claws outward, whiskers twitching on edge she knew. 

“You hurt him,” Drax exclaimed, more shocked then angry, for once. Groot sniffed, burrowing his head into the crook of the large man’s neck.

“Guys what’s going….” Peter took in the scene with wide eyes, surveying the rest of them. Gamora only watched Rocket’s chest rise and fall, mouth agape, eyes wide though he offered no explanation. 

“I didn’t….” he breathed, trembling “I wou….I wouldn’t….” He caught himself, then snorted flicked his paw in what was supposed to be a show of dismissiveness. _A pretty lame one,_ Gamora observed. “I...I didn’t hurt him! Kid was meddling in shit he shouldn’t be!” 

“He’s a child!” Drax thundered with righteous fury. Gamora dove between them, gasping at the fiery sparks that scourged trough her cybernetics. If anyone noticed, they said nothing. 

“Drax!” She held him at arm's length, ready in an instant to attack if need be. 

“Easy, easy!” Peter approached Rocket with the caution one would approach _well,...a cornered animal_. “I’m sure you didn’t mean it, right? Groot’s okay, right buddy? Your good! We’ll get you some bandages and...and how about a nice mezalian cookie?” The little flora perked his head up at the sound of that, lowering his arm to expose a small strip of shredded bark. Drax nodded at the human’s words. 

“Come smaller Groot, we will get you some cookies and patch you up. Rocket will not harm you again. We have clearly overestimated his parental abilities.” 

Peter scowled at Rocket,

“Man you gotta watch yourself!”

“Peter, it’s fine. I’ll handle it,” Gamora leveled him with a look. Thankfully he nodded, turning once more to the destroyer and Groot.

“What happened,” Gamora rounded on the raccoonoid as Drax and Peter made a hasty departure, cooing and coddling the infant flora. 

“Fuck off,” the raccoonoid snapped, waving her away. He looked at the shard of bark on the floor, then to his own claws for but a second, before spitting on said floor and turning on his heel, scurrying into the bowels of the ship. 

“How is he?”

“He’ll be okay I think,” Peter inspected Groot’s damaged side. Gamora knelt beside him, staring in wonder at the fresh green shoots already beginning to heal over the tear. Groot himself seemed ambivalent at worse, munching on the cookies. 

“I got good news for you too,” Peter prompted. “Nebula escaped in one of our pods so we can track it easily. She just landed.” Her skin pricked with agitation, the hair on her neck rising. “Lax Vrens.”

\---

 _She would go for Lax Vrens,_ Gamora shook her head irritably as she, Quill and Rocket stepped off the ramp and onto the wet squishing surface of the tiny planet. Less a planet, not even on the regular scanners, more of an ever so habitable asteroid. An outpost, home to people looking for a place to hide. 

“This place is a dump,” Rocket whined. 

“You could’ve stayed back with Groot,” Gamora barked. _Though given the recent outburst…._ The raccoonoid’s stunt hung like a foul odor in the air. He muttered several choice words and flicked his tail in irritation. “I can see you,” Gamora couldn’t help but feel lighter as Peter sauntered over beside her, his headphones crooked on his head, leaving one ear open. 

“Nothing gets past you!” He teased, shoulder lightly bumping next to her. 

“Can you focus? I don’t want a repeat of last time,” she admonished in what she hoped was not too harsh. It was good to have some levity among her constant search. Among the continuous scanning of any blue and metal alien. She tightened her grip around her blade for ease. 

“Finding her will be easy, she’s got our escape pod,” he snapped his fingers to some foreign beat as they walked through the wide thoroughfare of Lax Vrens. 

“Not if she abandoned it,” Rocket quipped a few paces ahead of them. “I’m gettin’ new straps and scopes. Ping me if you need anything.” Gamora opened her mouth to argue but Peter’s hand against her arm stopped her.

“It’s not worth it.” 

She nodded, allowing it to role off her shoulders. To her right something moved between the low squat buildings. Gamora turned on a dime ready to spring, breath held. Body coiled, a spring ready to go. She halted, heart hammering, _Just a Tubarian citizen._ Muscles tensed but she moved along, biting her tongue while she walked beside Peter who so casually danced around in the street without a second thought. She laughed, his carelessness and joviality most welcome. There was an innocence there, a strange one, Peter was in fact until most recently a wanted criminal by the Nova Corps but ...still he retained a childish glee she never had; but wanted-no matter how hard she kept the desire at bay. 

“What are you listening to n…..?”

Something moved in the shadows adjacent to them. Gamora’s eyes trained on the shift in the darkness. _Two figures, one male one female. Kree possibly? Or Skrull?_ She glanced back at Peter, already several lengths ahead, dancing around in his own little world. 

_Could be a trap…._ her back pinched in tension, the metal in her spine cramping. Gamora zoned in on the two figures, now having backed themselves into an alley. _They’re armed,_ she could see the outline of a pistol against the females hip and a long prong strapped to her back. Wasting no time she whipped out her sword, eyes trained on each target, moving her pace from walking to a brisk pursuit. With practiced notion she slammed the female into the side of the wooden building, blunt end of the blade against her neck. With her other hand she grabbed the wrist before the female alien could reach for her gun and snatched the weapon away from her belt, aiming it at the male. Gamora frowned making out a stitched insignia on the female aliens cloak, just on the shoulder. A perfect circle, one side of stitched in with red thread the other half empty black, Two hands cupped the circle in with what looked to be humanoid fingers. _Some sort of military? Terran? No..._ Ebony Maw spared no expense in “educating” her and her siblings about the various armies, groups, secret societies throughout the galaxy. This was not one of them. Not that she cared to remember the finer points of those lessons. 

“Who are you?” Gamora ordered, examining them. Purplish skin gave way to a black mask, covering their nose and mouth. Though bipedal they weren’t humanoids. She could tell by the fin coming from the male’s back. 

“There’s no need for violence Gamora,” the female alien intoned, chiding. 

“How do you know my name?” _Of course they know who I am._

“We have no intention of harming you,” the male reassured, two sets of arms still held in surrender despite the gun still strapped to his side. 

“We were hoping you could help us.” Gamora scrutinized them, sparring a look out to the street. Aliens passed with no inkling of any disturbance. She took a deep breath, lowering the sword, and the gun only just. She watched the male alien take a sigh of relief. 

“What makes you think I would help you?” 

The female grinned, revealing pointed fangs, quickly tapping something strapped to her wrist. 

“Have you seen this creature?”

The male gestured to the rough hologram image attempting to materialize from the computer on the female’s wrist. The blue hologram fuzzed, glitched, then finally formed into a shape. 

_Is that…?_

His face was smaller, guant, with patches of hairlessness and dull fur. A metal collar clamped around his neck, tight enough that inflamed pink tissue bubbled up and under the thing, dried blood crusting around the edges. 

“Subject 89P13 was with you after the battle of Xandar,” the female went on, smirking at the look of the shock evidence on the assassin woman’s face. 

“I don’t know who you’re talking about,” Gamora recovered, quick as she could. The alien female shrugged, flipping off the hologram.

“That’s a pity, we were going to help it.” 

_Help?_ Rocket’s lip quivering as he held back tears, the crude blots in his bones she had seen only in passing when he signed to wear anything with a cut below the collar bone. She shivered despite herself. _Cold metal, merciless hands picking at your body, tugging and pulling and tearing. Taking things out, putting things in. “I didn’t ask to be torn apart and put back together all over and over….”_

“I’m no bounty hunter,” she countered; “I don’t know any Subject 89P13.” Gamora backed away, keeping the gun and sword aimed, glancing once more at the unassuming streets. 

“It’s unstable,” the female stated simply, casually examining something under her fingernails. “It wasn’t complete you know.” Gamora tightened her grip around the weapons. “Has it destroyed anything lately? Taking things apart, reconfiguring weapons and engine systems on your ship?” 

_Peter’s pilots, Drax’s knives “upgraded” lying on the floor amid an assembly of other bombs. Stray wires and ruined parts of the ship strewn about as Rocket worked madly on some project he’d assigned himself._

“Has it gotten angry? Hurt you or your crew?” The male asked, stepping closer. _Groot…._

Gamora adjusted her position, squaring against both of them, watching for any sense of movement. 

“It will only continue,” the female patronizing an ignorant child. “89P13 was built for destruction. It was programmed to cause chaos.”

 _They’re wrong!_ Gamora reasoned. _Rocket wasn’t a threat He may be impulsive, manic even, and aggressive but he’s not...illogical or can’t be reasoned with. And yet...the way he is constantly taking the ship apart, messing with our things...always ready to fight...always testing his latest weapons without any care for our safety ...for Groot’s safety._ Her gut churned with each incident in the past week alone. _He bit Peter...and nearly bit Drax the day before that. But Groot,_ she reassured herself. _He’d never hurt Groot .._.except he had hurt Groot and showed little remorse about it.

“It’s only a matter of time,” the alien continued. “It is a danger to itself and anyone it comes in contact with.” 

“ _He_ isn’t a danger,” Gamora shouted before she could help it. Both of them smiled, 

“So you do know it.” 

Gamora curled her finger around the trigger. 

“It will only get worse. It cannot resist it’s conditioning. We went through great pains to ensure that.” 

_I’m sure you did,_ images of the hologram surfaced in her mind. The cruel scalpels and electric shocks. If his “conditioning” was anything like her own, she sincerely hoped it wasn’t. 

“Why do you think we created 89P13 in one of the most secure laboratories in the galaxy on one of the most remote planets in the keystone quadrant.” 

_Halfworld…._ Gamora’s eyes flicked to the insignia on their black uniforms. The female alien smiled once more, eerily wide. 

“89P13 was never meant to survive outside the lab. It’s creator made it what it is. It was a dumb, mute, senseless animal when it came to us.”

 _When you captured him, stole him away from his natural parents...siblings if he had them...taken away...he didn’t come to those scientists any more than I came to Thanos._ Gamora’s sword shook ever so subtly. 

“It was a sack of skin and bone. 89P13 is a ticking time bomb. You best return it to use before it explodes.” 

“You are wrong,” Gamora whispered dangerously. She continued to back away, making towards the main street again. 

“It is suffering Gamora.” She halted despite herself. The male alien reasoned lowly, “it is in far greater pain outside of the lab then inside of it. We know that must be hard to believe, but it is true and it will continue to suffer.”

The female alien lurched closer,

“You know the horror of it yourself, to be a half formed thing. Would you wish that fate on the animal you profess is your companion? Your friend?” 

Gamora opened her mouth to retort, stopping as something was pressed into her hand. 

“If you see 89P13, press this button.” She stared at the small round device, a single button in the centre. “That will subdue it.” 

“We want 89P13 to thrive and be the most that it can be. That’s what you want too isn’t it? The female alien admitted with sickly sweetness. 

Gamora stepped backward, into the street again keeping their weapons which-oddly enough they made no move to take. 

“You don’t know what I want,” she hissed, turning and dashing back down the streets of Lax Vrens to find Peter, the device heavy in her hand.


	11. The Tell Tale....?

_I came in from the wilderness, a creature void of form_

_Come in, she said_

_I'll give ya shelter from the storm_

_\---_

_I'll always do my best for her, on that I give my word_

_In a world of steel-eyed death, and men who are fighting to be warm_

_Come in, she said_

_I'll give ya shelter from the storm_

Shelter from the Storm - Bob Dylan

“I know what I said,” Rocket did not bother to suppress the growl in this tone. He glared at his data pad and the over-sized head of the Nova officer. 

“Then she must be taken into custody. What are your coordinates?” 

“I told yah we’re in the Keystone Quadrant.” The thing in his chest, heart or not palpated with fright. He swallowed it down with the help of trinquelian liquor. 

“All the more reason for you to hand her over,” even on a screen the Nova officer’s smug grin made Rocket want to shoot something-well more than usual. “We’ve been getting reports of two individuals bearing a Halfworld insignia. Something acidic swelled up in the raccoonoid’s belly. He clenched his fists tight. “We’ll pay you extra for any information you can give us on Lady Gamora’s continued behavior, her combat status, and,” the officer continued, “we will continue to keep our mouths shut on your whereabouts should those Halfworlders come looking.” 

“I said she threatened me,” he glanced over at Groot who fiddled with a disarmed treian bomb. “I ain’t said she acted on the threat.” 

“That’s a chance you’re willing to take?” 

Rocket’s ears flicked backward, baring his teeth. 

“I’ll let you know if she does anything fishy.” 

He tapped the screen watching the Nova officer’s face face away. 

_Poor kid,_ Groot let out a squeak as air from the bomb popped off. 

“Careful Groot, you’re gonna hurt yourself!” 

The little flora only stared at him inquisitively and smiled wide eyed. The thing in Rocket’s heart quivered, he sighed, running a paw through his fur. 

“Made this for you bud,” he murmured, reaching over his work bench to a small, finely crafted gun. Made of smooth, opret metal. Durable but light, not too flashy, but pleasing to the eye. He’d painted it a bright light green over the barrel. Groot toddled closer, his brittle roots still fragile. Rocket knelt down beside him, showing him the gun. “It shoots water, see?” With the pull of the trigger a small jet of water escaped the gun, arching passed Groot and splashing onto the floor.

“I am Groot!” 

“Yeah you can!” Rocket couldn’t help a laugh as the flora grabbed for the toy. He watched Groot play with the thing happily, shooting it off and watching the water splash. 

“I am Groot!”

“Yeah bud, it’s for you. All yours.” The little flora ignored him, running around the cramped engine room shooting off the toy gun. The raccoonoid watched, ears slowly drooping. He sighed, slumping, cybernetics in his back relaxing for a moment, tugging on his skin abated. Groot laughed as several droplets of water hit against his face. Rocket closed his eyes, savoring that sound. _Those three words._

“Groot, c’mere you can change the kinda water that comes out. Lemme show….FUCK!”

Rocket toppled, stomach spinning. His forepaws, and tail all sailing through the air in a sickening hurdle. He crashed against the storage cabinets, weapons and stray parts cascading down around him. 

“Groot!” He shoved a large tube off himself, scrambling around for the little flora. 

This ship tilted left as Rocket scampered on all fours, claws trying to get a grip on the aluminum floor. 

“Groot!”

“Mmmm grooo!”

A small leaf poking out of the mess of tools sent Rocket panicking. He grabbed the small flora in his arms, quickly looking him over for any wounds. 

“You okay?” Groot nodded, but sniffed, keeping his little body curled. Rocket pulled him to his chest, claws shielding him against another violent shake of the ship. “Shit, shit, shit!” 

He held Groot to him, running on three legs, trying to balance against the Benatar’s jolting down the narrow halls to the cockpit. 

“Who the flark is flying this thing?!”

“That would be Quill,” Drax nodded towards the humie who let out his own string of expletives from the helm.

Rocket teetered towards the copilot seat, then stopped in his tracks. 

“Thats….” 

On the starboard side, a flare of yellow fire burst and spread across the dark tableau of space, illuminating the Benatar. 

“It’s a solar storm,” Gamora gapsed. The crack in her voice not going unnoticed to his capable ears. 

Rocket leapt up into the co pilot seat, unlocking the steering controls and twisting the ship to the leeward side avoiding another flare. 

“Groot!” The little flora tumbled from his place against Rocket’s chest, hitting the ground with a small thump “You alright?!”

“I am Groot!”

The ship groaned, another flash of fiery orange covering the large windows. 

“Dude watch where we’re going!” Quill shouted, revving the engines and diving down under the flare. Drax let out a hooting laugh, as they swerved the ship around two more exploding flares.

“You didn’t read this on the radar?” Rocket growled, grunting as he swung the Benatar around another explosion. The humie glanced behind him, the raccoonoid followed his look to Gamora, scrutinizing the radar trying to anticipate the next flare.

“You got a read on Nebula’s ship didn’t you?!” He snarled. 

“Rocket this isn’t the time,” she reprimanded. “We have bigger problems on our hands!”

“Clearly you don’t think so! You’d rather…” Something hissed, the Benatar buckling. All five of them screaming.

Beep, beep, beep, beep! 

The red alarms blared. 

“Quill! When I say now, take her around the horn!” 

Rocket squinted through the harsh white light, waiting for the flare to thin out. 

“Now!”

A collective scream rose once more as the Benatar swerved around the rim of a small sun, the hot air currents sending the ship surging up and around. The ship fishtailed, tremoring. Lights flashed. Rocket sniffed, somethin’s burnin’. 

BEEP BEEP BEEP 

“Everyone okay?” The human called,

“I am well! This is quite fun!” Drax looked wide eyed straight at the bright lights. 

“I’m fine,” Gamora seethed. 

“Groot?....GROOT?!”

“Shit,” Quill whispered, white knuckling the steering and flinging the Benatar around a small sunburst just in time. The ship rolled on the hot air let off from the blast like a ship on the writhing ocean. “Groot wandered off to the storage area… that’s where…” 

BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP

Rocket glanced at the cameras, a fire in the main storage unit in the rear of the ship. Flames licked the containers. His stomach dropped. He fiddled with the seat belt, heaving for breath. 

“Stay there,” Gamora ordered, already on her feet, flying out of the cockpit, down the hall towards the rear. Rocket bared his teeth, pulling his eyes back to the solar storm. He panted, heat from the fire inside and outside of the ship beginning to take its toll. 

“Dude we have to get out of here! The ships on fire!” 

“I know!” 

The humie dipped under another large blast, 

“We can land on Recseta. It’s only a jump away!”

Rocket nodded, but his eyes remained glued to the cameras, he spotted Gamora in the storage unit, shielding her face from the flames. 

_Cmon Groot….where are you bud?!_

The mechanical thing in his chest threatened to explode it beat so fast, he gripped the steering controls so tight the metal scratched. 

“Read….” 

BOOM! 

The Benatar jerked violently, Rocket closed his eyes against the straps holding him in. Pressing him downward, his insides threatening to empty. The lights on the controls blinked, fuzzed and went black. Sweat poured down Quill’s face. 

“Why is it so hot?” 

“Groot!” 

Rocket leaned forward, staring at the shorted out screen, as if to will it back online. No luck. 

“Here comes the jump! Rocket, punch it!” 

The human’s voice called him back from his panic. Rocket thrust the steering forward, sending the ship surging forward. There was a sickening jolt, Quill muttered something, struggling to land through the dense trees. 

Rocket adjusted the landing gears as the ship gradually slowed. A plume of black smoke billowing out of the starboard side. 

“I...I got him,” the raccoonoid spun in his seat. Gamora leaned on the side of Quill’s chair, one arm gripping it tightly. On the other hand, Groot curled, scared and whimpering but otherwise unharmed. “There was an explosion.” 

“Yeah we got that,” Rocket seethed, he grabbed Groot from Gamora’s hold. “You alright bud?”

“I..a...am G...grooot!” The little face nodded but curled in on himself.

“He good?” Quill asked, the raccoonoid nodded. 

“Good. Gamora….?” 

The assassin nodded, silencing Quill’s further fretting. 

\---

The Benatar would be alright, after some repair. The bulk of the damage consisted mostly of the internal storage units, and some external hits but nothing permanent. Rocket surveyed the extent of the fires after they’d made sure everyone was okay. He and Quill took turns cooling the exterior of the ship, while Drax had offered to move any cargo into the living quarters temporarily. Even Groot “helped,” pushing containers around and trying to open the safes. 

“Where’s Gamora, she should be helpin’ us. She got us into this mess,” the raccoonoid fumed.

“Just give her a break man, she got pretty burnt up trying to get Groot.” 

Rocket waited for the end of that sentence, _“when you should’ve been watching him.”_ But it didn’t come. 

“Whatever, I’m going to find her. No one gets out of repair duty!” 

He dropped his tools and hopped down from the wing of the ship 

Recseta was an arboreal planet. Largely uninhabited due to its size and remote location even within the Keystone Quadrant. 

“Gams! Gamora!” Rocket called, wandering through the trees. He kept one paw on his holster, just in case. “Gams! Gaaaammmoooorrrraaaa! Ga…”

He sniffed, once, twice. _Dirt, steele, sweat, a slight burning._ _That’s her._

Rocket’s ears swiveled towards the smell. Through the lengthy shadows of the trees he spotted her, sitting hunched over her arm; no doubt trying to look at her wounds. Her shoulders trembled as she worked.

Something else too _….salt...water...tears? Ppppsh no way._

He crept closer, watching her. 

“You’re never gonna cool the entire thing at that angel.” Rocket folded his arms, leaning against the rough bark of a tree. He sniffed the earthen moisture of the air, combined with the scent of tang of smoking metal.

“Are you offering assistance?” Gamora growled, trying to turn over her shoulder to get a better view of the wound. She held the cooling pen at an awkward position trying to focus on the torn wires and metal beneath the skin, wincing as the icy plasma-like substance graced her skin. She muttered a curse, adjusting her grip and attempting again. In the hazy twilight it was difficult to determine wire from vein. 

“Since you’re askin’.” Rocket watched her left arm spasm twice more before sighing, heaving himself up, with an exaggerated sigh and striding towards her. “Gimme that.” 

She relinquished the cooling pen without question, facing forward and curling her fingers around the fallen log on which she sat. Rocket pushed a nearby rock through the dirt several feet and climbed up, balancing on the top just the right height to hover over the woman’s shoulder. The darkness of the forest was no problem for his vision, he almost wished it was. The damage she’d taken from the fire was extensive. Besides frying the cybernetics in her shoulder the elaborate wiring under her flesh bubbled and raised in angry black grey lines across the shoulder blade to the side of her spine and up the back of her neck. 

Using the tip of the instrument, he traced over the cybernetic coils twisting in and out of her muscle tissue. White-blue liquid encapsulated the smoking wires, instantly cooling them. Gamora’s muscles twitch involuntarily with the chill. 

“Stop moving,” he admonished. Without thinking of it the raccoonoid raised a paw, placing it against her other shoulder, little claws curling around the natural curve of the bone beneath flesh. Her skin was smooth, not perfect of course-stubble goosebumps raised on her skin, a million little hairs bent to and throw in the breeze. She stiffened but did not move as he worked his way around the socket of her shoulder. The metal of her implants set flush against her skin around the bend in her collar bone, contouring naturally. _So carefully done, custom. The engineering was flawless._ The time it must have taken to weave the thin wires and paneling with skin was inexplicable. Especially around the curve of her face. _How long did she have to lie still….did she remain still? Did they strap her down or manually hold her? Did they put her in a cage? Ha no….ain’t no cage strong enough to hold Gamora. But...one could’ve stayed still for long, they probably drugged her with stars know what._

For all that they’d done to his body and his brain...they’d never touched his face apart from his eyes. _The face is so sensitive the flesh so thin...this must've taken at least several procedures for hours at a time…._ Rocket shifted his weight, shivering, curving around the ball of her arm, carefully positioning the device to cool the tiny cybernetics that continued their way down her arm, lost to blood and bone. 

The wind through the trees ruffled his fur and the distant unseen chorus of bugs continued making the dark silence more bearable. He looked over the open wound once more, satisfied with the cooling.

“I can’t get anymore than that,” he explained looking at the undulating black tentacles of fried cybernetics beneath the skin. “Only way to do those would be to open you up. You’ll have to wait it out, they should cool in a few days on their own.” 

“That’s fine,” she answered shortly, making to get up. Rocket reached down beside her on the large fallen tree for the cloth already disheveled and stained with blood. He swiped it up, dabbing tenderly around the torn edges of her skin. Beneath his other paw, still resting on her shoulder he could feel her relax, sitting back in place. 

“You shouldn’t have done that. If that fire had been any closer it would’ve disabled your whole system.” It came out a harsh growl, more-so then he meant. 

“Groot would have been blown apart. Again,” she defended. “Besides these injuries are minor compared to …. others. I can handle it.” 

“Just because you can doesn’t mean you should have to.”

Gamora huffed, a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips.

A gust of wind howled between them, sending a large piece of the assassins’s black-marroon hair sweeping down her back. She reached backward, gathering her hair up and holding it at the nape of her skull. From far off, the lights of the Benatar cast an almost moonlit glow. The metal in Gamora’s shoulder shone, reflecting in Rocket’s nocturnal eyes. He picked up the sutures with trembling paws.

It was much easier to patch up an inanimate object like a bomb or a gun. Metal didn’t feel anything. You could pulverize it as much as you wanted. You could push and pull flesh pretty damn well too. If you didn’t mind the screaming that usually went with it. He figured Gamora knew that truth too. 

“Hang on, this might hurt. Move your head.” 

She bent her head slightly to the right, and he moved his other paw, resting ever so carefully on her neck making sure to keep his claws as retracted as possible. Beneath the thin green skin, he could feel her pulse thrum in a steady rhythm. So delicate, unlike anything else about her. He worked the stitches with dexterous, nimble hands weaving in and out. Her neck tensed.

“Ahh,” she winced.

“S’alright, it hurts.” Rocket murmured by way of an apology. He poked the needle through her skin, watching the blood pucker up.

 _“_ When Thanos made yah,” he broached slowly, “did he keep all your insides in tact?” Slowly her green skin knit together and he adjusted his grip moving to steady the center of her spine with his other paw. The flesh was thin there too, though not as smooth. 

“My cybernetics are muscular and skeletal.” He nodded. The gradient of her flesh changed, a scar twisted there, a ribbon of skin still healing here. More metal beneath the surface, he could feel it as he pressed. 

“That’s good at least. I don’t know how much of me is actually me,” he admitted softly. “Sometimes I wonder if I even got a heart that’s my own or if that’s just a piece of metal too.” 

Her left arm moved as she shifted her weight, her torso inflating with the breath she sucked through her teeth as he continued to work the flesh. Rocket finished tying off the final stitch with a snap, biting it off with his pointed teeth. Gamora shuddered, the vibrations of which he could feel through his paws. 

“All set.”

He waited for her to get up briskly but...she didn’t. The insects sung around the two of them, the trees filing the space. In the twilight purple haze they sat. The raccoonoid looked at his paws, one of them still resting on Gamora’s back, the other on her shoulder. He didn’t move them even as he realized it. Together they sat together breathing. 

Finally, Gamora turned around, looking at him. Her large usually imperceptible eyes soft. He followed her gaze as it wandered over his small frame, resting finally on the raised bolts under his collar bones and the bald bits of knotted skin, raised and riddled with rough scar tissue. She reached out, hand trembling; fingers brushed the cold metal. The last person who touched those bolts, was the person putting them in. 

“You were awake when they did this to you,” she whispered calmly. The raccoonoid didn’t dare ask how she knew. 

_You go under the knife enough times you start getting an immunity to the anesthetics. It takes more and more to knock you out….and keep you out. Eventually it’s more trouble than it’s worth._

He watched her scrutinize the implants with knowing eyes. Measuring the angle at which they were inserted, how the bolts functioned to expand his front limbs and give him a chest. But she wouldn’t ask anything aloud; she was too kind, too careful. 

_The blinding cold lights, the pinching restraints, the biting needles._ He’d never told anyone anything about his creation, not in such detail not even to Groot. _But Gamora...she got made too...by Thanos. And that asshole probably didn’t treat her no better than they treated me._

Rocket clenched his jaw shut, else his memories might come pouring out, covered in blood and visera. He yearned so desperately to tell Gamora everything. Every agonizing pang that ever wracked him, every night he shivered in a windowless cage waiting for those gloved hands to strip him and beat him and break him and make him and unmake him and make him again. Whatever the thing was in his chest, mechanical or natural that pumped his blood-it tightened with yearning to speak his pain to someone who knew. They’d each done terrible things to silence the voice of their anguish, of their pasts, but sitting here in this nighttime with her he longed to tell her what it was that turned him into this monster. He swallowed the urge, he wouldn’t say a thing,. Selfish as he was, Gamora had felt her own share of agonies. She didn’t need to hold his. 

Gamora moved her hand slowly, reaching out and opening her palm for him to take her hand. Against his own inhibitions, Rocket grasped it, grateful. Fingers closed around his paw. Her skin was rougher there, calloused and raised from years of wielding a blade, but no less warm.

He squeezed her hand, it was all he could do. She squeezed his hand back, her large inexplicably sharp eyes looking at him. With the same deftness as Groot _...the old Groot._ But different too, where the old Groot had always looked upon him with boundless empathy Gamora held his gaze with a mutual sorrow. A shared anguish they both carried within themselves though they were far from their creators. Even still, their bodies kept the score of years of violence and manipulation. Rocket sniffed, the scent of the assassin mingled with the trees and dirt, with the damp soil and the used metal instruments.

She stroked his paw incessantly, as if she were reassuring herself of something.

“Thank you,” she murmured looking down at their hands. 

“Don’t mention it.” 

She nodded in affirmation and stood up, walking back through the trees to the ship, leaving the raccoonoid alone once more. Rocket fought down the tears behind his eyes. How long they had been there, he didn’t know. What had provoked them, he wasn’t sure. He watched her go until she was lost to the darkness once more. He curled his paw in a small fist, trying to hold on to whatever feeling was contained therein. Loneliness crashed upon him once more, he sniffed and straightened, hopping down from the rock and gathering the medical supplies. 

\---

“I am Groot!” 

Back on the ship, some time later, Rocket turned, the tiny flora nudged the data bad towards him, blinking with the missed message of the day. 

_Nova._

The raccoonoid’s paws trembled as he clicked it on, 

“This ...this is s...Subject 89P13.” He stole himself a breath, closing his eyes. “Gamora’s cybernetics have been damaged.” His fur bristled. “We hit a solar storm and she got hurt. I managed to do some repairs but…” he swallowed. “Her enhancements are operating at sixty percent. We’re on Recseta.”

He shut the mic off, hurling the device against the room. It smacked against the far side of the pipes with a clatter. 

He slid down against the wall to the floor, rubbing his eyes with the back of his paws. 

“I am Groot?” 

Rocket only shook his head, reaching for a bottle of isertine ale. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has been my favorite one to write thus far! The Song Shelter From the Storm really exemplifies this whole story to me and the narrative of these two characters sheltering each other. 
> 
> I hope you all enjoyed!


	12. Old Wounds

_It's not your eyes, it's not what you say_

_It's not your laughter that gives you away_

_You're just lonely, you've been lonely, too long_

_All your actin', your thin disguise_

_All your perfectly delivered lies, they don't fool me_

_You've been lonely too long, let me in the wall, you've built around_

_And we can light a match and burn it down, let me hold your hand and dance 'round and 'round the flame In front of us, Dust to dust._

Dust to Dust - The Civil Wars 

Zen Whoberi - 10 Terran years earlier 

“Come on baby,” 

Gamora tossed her head, trying to get the hair to loosen from her sticky cheeks, sweat perspiration out of every pore. 

“Mama I’m hot!”

Her feet tumbled over the dust, body aching. 

“I know baby, come on this way, quickly!” 

“Why’s that man sleeping in the dirt?” 

Another scream sounded, Gamora turned to look. A woman arched backward, spinning and crumpled to the ground. The armored alien reloaded his weapon and ran towards a burning hut. 

“We have to run now Gamora, come on!” 

Her feet were hoisted off the parched ground and her mother ran. Gamora clutched on tight, over the shoulder of her mother’s robes. Burning, everything was burning. A chorus of wails sounded, followed by the sounds of gunfire, shouting, smoke. Colors blurred. 

“Consider yourselves lucky,” a voice boomed through the flames of burning homes. Gamora tried to turn her head, in every direction people ran, people fell, people cried. “You have been chosen for a higher purpose. To bring balance to the galaxy. Thanos thanks you. Your sacrifice is appreciated.” 

“Mama!” 

“Shhhh Gamora,”

“Mama I’M HOOTTT!”

_Fffffoooooosh!_

Gamora turned, and let out a high-pitched scream. A wall of fire, swelled and roared, dancing red and orange burning, burning burning. She was falling into the yellow scorched earth. Her mother falling, more shouts, more pleas. The flames. The flames. It was so hot, she was falling. No. She was burning. 

\--

She was burning. 

“Groot! Grooot!” 

BEEP BEEP BEEP

Gamora squinted through the smoke, heart hammering in her chest. The Benatar tipped and surged with the efforts of Peter and Rocket trying to pilot the ship. Another blast of heat assaulted her, she swerved to the side, cursing against the weight of the smoke. Down through the halls into the rear storage unit. 

“Groot!”

“Ack, ack...I...I..a..am...ack...G..groot!” 

“Groot! It’s Gamora! I’m here, it’s okay!”

Black smog closed around her, obstructing the hall. _Breathe, walk slow, feel your way. You know this ship backward and fowards...just...fuck._ Her leg folded, sending her shuffling forward in a deluge of burning heat. The metal in her body rose in temperature, oddly comforting at first, warm. 

BEEP BEEP BEEP

“Groot!” she reached her fingers out, straining for any purchase in the disorienting smoke. 

“Groot! Can you hear me?!” 

“I...I am Groot!” 

Momentary relief cooled her fear, though the itching of her cybernetics mounted, turning at last to white hot agony. _Breathe, you’ve had worse._ _Focus. What is the objective?_ She shoved a large container aside with a grunt. No sign of Groot. The ship bounced, 

“Fuck!”

The metal in her hips and each of her sides ached and burned. 

“I am Groot!” 

“It’s okay...hey, don’t say that! I’ll be right there, come on, where are you?”

She waved the thick plume away from her face, Groot’s small face looked up at her through the containers, he himself squished between two large boxes of Estervine foodstuffs. 

BEEP BEEP BEEP

Stinging hot metal pricked at her face, up throughout her entire body, through her legs and torso. She gritted her teeth, reaching out and snatching the crying flora.

“You can’t just run away like that you could be hurt!” 

Groot only cried, small fingers twisting through her hair. 

\---

“I got him,” Gamora leaned against Peter’s seat, legs trembling. “There was an explosion.” _I...I think...I couldn’t see…._

“Yeah we got that,” Rocket’s growl elicited no response. Not even his sharp claws grazed her as he snatched the saping away.

Quill looked at her, with no small amount of concern. How nice it would be to just fall into that chair, that embrace. She could rest _….he would not judge that would he?_

“You good Gamora?” 

She itched her skin, its heat unbearable but managed a nod. 

\---

 _Solitude, finally._ Gamora shifted her weight upon the log on which she sat. The cooling pen she held shook uncontrollably. She gnashed her teeth in frustration. _You can do this. You’ve done it before._ The dark dank cells of Thanos keep. She sniffed, wincing at the searing burning in her arms. From far off the sound of Peter’s music echoed through the trees. _I should be helping._ But no, she attempted again to pinpoint the tool towards her wounds; the post-combat ritual from her days as a living weapon was hard to overcome. _Fight, if wounded, get away, hide. Hide so he cannot find you. Cannot torture you._ But he always found her in the end. So she learned to wound others worse instead. _Nebula._

She blinked the tears from her eyes, each sting of the cooling device making her heart race. The agony of the cybernetics throbbed through her in waves of heat. 

_Shit…._

“You’re never gonna cool the entire thing at that angle.” 

_Rocket._

Gamora wiped a hand across her face, summoning a breath. Straightening her back. Pretending to be well. Another old ritual.

“Are you offering assistance?” 

“Since you’re askin’. Gimme that.” 

She sighed, too tired to argue. 

She winced at the small claws on her skin, instinctively gripping on to her arm with surprising strength. She stiffened, watching him concentrate as he held the object, carefully dragging it over her cybernetics. His motions were slow, deliberate. _Careful ...gentle._ The cold blast hit against her skin, she flailed. 

“Stop moving,” 

The raccoonoid’s paw curled around the ball of her shoulder, too small to fit around the whole thing but steady all the same. She sighed, the slow relief of dissipating heat most welcome. Gamora swallowed as Rocket worked the tool farther up her arm. Watching his whiskers twitch, his eyes narrow. He switched the angle on the grip, hovered the pointed end over her wound for a moment, then slowly continued. _Remarkably careful,_ she noticed, in contrast to all the other times Rocket handled any type of machinery. 

The breeze stirred, sending the trees rustling, a tuft of her hair billowed. Without thinking she pulled her locks back, holding the tangle bundle behind her head, careful not to get in the raccoonoid’s way. 

“Hang on, this might hurt. Move your head.”

_I’m surprised, he warned me…_

A zap of stinging cold shot through the delicate cybernetics, close enough to the nerves making a wave of shocking chills wrack through her along the metal highways under her skin. 

“Ahh!” 

The cry escaped her without pretense. Heat immediately heated her cheeks in an angry flush. _Never show pain...showing pain means more painful procedures...breathe. Breathe...don’t…_

“S’alright, it hurts,” Rocket whispered uncommonly soft; an apology. Gamora unclenched her jaw. She never allowed herself to feel agony. Yet here was Rocket, of all beings in the galaxy, giving her permission to do just that. 

The ringtail continued his sutuers slowly examining his handiwork after every other stitch. Gamora opened her mouth to say something-exactly what she wasn’t sure-but he spoke first. 

_“_ When Thanos made yah….did he keep all your insides intact?”

The assassin frowned, _my insides? Of course he did, I needed to be enhanced and trained not torn apart._ She stole a glance over her shoulder at the strangely quiet raccoonoid. 

_Rocket is bipedal, his intelligence, voice, dictation and syntax humanoid. Those eyes though, large and red and lacking any iris or pupil, large red, unfocused orbs glowed ominously in the dark. They were inexplicable, alien. Left over from a time and a place_ Gamora had no desire to dwell on. Those foriegn orbs of fiery anger made his face even more difficult to distinguish even for someone as skilled in interpreting behavior as Gamora. 

“My cybernetics are muscular and skeletal,” she finally answered, the words heavy on her tongue. He asked no further questions, for that she would be eternally grateful.

The pain in her cybernetics no longer stabbed, but ached with a dull throbbing that she managed to ignore with practiced callousness. 

“That’s good at least,” he managed after awhile. “I don’t know how much of me is actually me. Sometimes I wonder if I even got a heart that’s my own or if that’s just a piece of metal too.” 

Her own heart synched in her chest at the confession. She shifted her weight uncomfortably and he tied off the last suture on her arm. 

“All set,” he finally declared, examining the outcome of his efforts. 

Gamora sat stiff. Glancing at him in the darkness. The breeze stirred. The branches of the trees cast shadows like dancers on the leaf strewn forest floor. She looked at her teammate with sympathy.

 _Though Rocket’s red eyes were unnervingly unreadable, the rest of his body language was screaming. Mechanized shoulders slumped, tail low and between the legs, ears flat and dropping. Part of her wanted to know what had been done to him. What process he had to go through to become the thing he was today. Did they train him with weapons of steel and iron? Did they punish him if he failed in combat?_ Gamora wondered if he was like her. The only battle she ever lost was the one waged on her own body. And after that she vowed never to lose again. No matter the cost. _Did Rocket ever make a similar declaration to keep himself alive in the endless nights locked in a cage_ . _Ha ...there wasn’t a cage in the world that could contain Rocket._ Gamra wondered if he too was made to watch what they did to him as they did it? If he looked at his scars the way she looked at her own.

She turned, daring to lower her eyes to where the metal bolts fused into his clavicle. The metal had rusted over the years, like her own implants the skin around the foriegn substance had swollen and puffed with red irritation not even a thick layer of fur could conceal. Gamora’s breath quickened, reaching out to brush the cold bolts. The right one… _.it’s crooked, not flush against the bone._ She squinted, hand held awkwardly hovering above the metal. _It was stuck in without much thought, quickly._ Several patches of black, crusted gunk were...holes where they didn’t re-graft the skin to the metal. _It would risk infection,_ she remembered Ebony Maw’s voice, all new cybernetic modifications must be properly inserted, the flesh and bone and muscle reattached with exceptional patience and diligence. _So why would Rocket’s creators….unless_ Then it dawned on her…. _how did I not realize it sooner?_

“You were awake when they did this to you.”

_He was moving when they inserted that right bolt.... Properly graphing the skin would take too much time...impossible if the person was struggling._

Gamora looked at him, eyes narrowing, trying to discern his face. 

_What did they think when they stood over him, strapped helpless to a metal table?_ Gamora wondered not for the first time. _Did his creator...creators...truly revel in the distorted beauty of what they were making or were they more like Thanos? Were they trying to destroy a part of themselves instead? Had he been painfully aware of his creation like she had been at times? Forced to look at herself in a dirty mirror or had he been granted the small inadequate mercy of ignorance at what was being done and un-done to him...Not fully realizing the extent of his torture until it was already done._ If he had been aware, like she was _...did he see with his creator's eyes like she had? Believing them. Did he try his best to fulfill their demands because complicity was better than punishment? Did he genuinely believe his creators as she had? Taking their praise to heart?_

She could tell him, here and now, that she too had been held down by impossible machines, made to fight and kill people who never did her any wrong. Every bolt of electricity, every stain of blood on Ebony Maw’s grey fingers. The words of it, the truth of every blinding light and blackened cell threatened to bubble up through her mouth and spill out, unearthing every horror she’d ever experienced. _No. Don’t do that. Don’t._ Rocket had had enough pain in his short life-span. She wouldn’t make him bare witness to hers. 

And yet…

Gamor seized his paw….hand? She wasn’t totally sure on the appropriate wording but she took it nonetheless, with perhaps too much earnestness then she’d otherwise care to show. In the dark of the night, she could not see how much her own hand trembled. The mind she kept so tight under lock and key ran rampant _. Did his creators profess to love him? The most dangerous lie there was. Did they give him false praise with the same empty words as Thanos? Did his creators believe that they were helping him? That they were modifying him for his own good? Had he come to the realization of his abuse in a single instant or gradually as she had? Was he determined to live his own life as his own person or...as was becoming more apparent, had he only learned to hate himself for what was done to him?_ Gamora did not know the answer to that question herself. It changed everyday. 

The small, firm squeeze of Rocket’s grip brought her back to reality. She squeezed his hand back, not wanting to let go. The padding on his paws was leathery and rippled with millions of adept sensors. But warm. Little claws sharp, but not painful. They curled into the back of her hand, _clinging._ She allowed herself to stroke his fur, surprisingly grounding and rhythmic. Gamora lifted her eyes to his animal face once more, trying to read the ringtail, but he was an enigma. 

“Thank you,” was all she could manage, though she wasn’t quite sure what she was thanking him for. 

“Don’t mention it."

She let go of his paw, though she did not want to. But who knew how long the raccoonoid would stand it? Was he shaking? Or was it her? Either way, she didn’t want to hurt him. She didn’t want her hand to be the hands of his torturers. She nodded to him and curt acknowledgement and stood up, striding back toward the Benatar. 

\---

In the safety of her own quarters, after slipping past Peter and the others; there was no way she could face the man right now, she was far...far too raw, Gamora wrapped her fingers around her own thumb, trying to replicate the feel of Rocket’s rough little paw. His fur was surprisingly silky and soft, contrary to everything else about the brash small beast. It was not lost on her that Groot was the sole person with whom Rocket permitted such intimacy. What had changed she could hardly guess. Maybe he had allowed her hand to remain for the same reason she had taken it in the first place. Because she was frightened. Frightened of being alone, of being incapable of compassion. Frightened that Thanos had succeeded in making her an unfeeling servant of his wrath. She’d taken his hand because he was there, because she had to to prove to herself that she could. Because her hands were one of the few parts of her not melded with metal. 

She sat on her small cot, her wound aching but much more subdued and clean than before. Gamora rubbed her thumb into the palm of her hand and leaned over to unlock the safe beside her bed, rummaging around for some loose bandages. Something metal cold and unforgiving graced her fingers. She frowned, scooting closer and bit her lip realizing: _the device the Halfworlders had given her._ Gamora scrutinized the thing, _similar etchings of circles, rusted,_ she touched the matching with the same hesitancy as Rocket’s cybernetics. It was a disturbingly similar style to the raccoonoid’s enhancements. Clearly developed by the same sadists. Her fingers curled around the small device, knuckles turning pale with anger. She set it down on the bedside table.

“Aaaaargggh!” 

Gamora whipped out the knife on her belt, arching the blade through the air in a single motion and stabbed, denting into the flimsy metal of the table; inches from the halfworld machine, shaking from side to side with the force of impact.

Gamora cursed, and allowed herself to flop down casually on her bed, letting her eyes close-the aches of her cybernetics a pulsing lullaby sh had learned to find soothing. 

\---

Knock knock, 

The assassin shot upright, grabbing her dagger and stalked to her door, 

“Who is it?”

“Its...it’s uhh me!” Peter fumbled. Gamora sighed with relief, allowing her heartbeat to soothe back down before opening the door. 

“What is it?”

“I uhh….I think...that...umm…” 

“How long was I asleep?”

“A few hours, it’s uhh….just that you might want to see this.” He ran a hand through his hair in that nervous gesture she couldn’t help but find adorable. 

“See what?”

“The uhh...there’s a ship here.”

She frowned, brows drawing together. Peter blinked, pursing his lips. 

“They're from the Nova Corps.”


	13. Interlude: Peter Quill

Peter Quill was a simple man. He liked his music and nostalgia and playing the long game, (like, for example with Gamora). He rolled with the punches and put great effort into having the last word. When it came to the hard stuff, and there was a lot of hard stuff- his mother, his home, the family he’d never returned to on earth, ...Gamora. But Gamora was worth it of course- he did his best not to dwell on it. Life was a joke. You might as well laugh, else you ended up like Drax, or worse, like Rocket. That nihilistic, argumentative selfish raccoonoid; he was so full of quirks it was impossible to know what would set him off. Peter didn’t truly mind though, precariously brass tendencies and feigned apathy, Rocket was at the very least a genius and loyal to Groot. If by loyall you meant obsessively protective and unrelentingly paternal to the point of everyone else's detriment than sure, he was a good guy. But even that was abating, Peter thought, picking Groot up off the ground away from where his elemental blaster lay. He bounced the squealing flora up and down, throwing him into the air and catching him. 

Sure the Benatar might have crashed landed and Gamora had been more stand-offish than usual but it was alright, Peter told himself, the sweet sounds of Fleetwood Mac coursing through the ship, but they were all together and Groot was back! Growing up with the Ravagers, you learned to appreciate the little things. Learned to steal away all the good moments you could get. Groot’s small wooden fists pounded against his arms, demanding another throw. 

“Alright buddy one more, then we gotta get back to work.” 

Peter tossed Groot, silly smile turning instantly to a frown hearting the smack of bark against the metal. The little flora’s wide smile froze. Eyes filling with sap. 

Shit shit shit, Peter looked instantly around for Rocket. But the ringtail, like Gamora, hadn't been seen in hours. He caught Groot and giggled him a little, patting his back. 

“Shhhe, shhh, it’s okay. You’re okay.” He swayed back and forth, glancing at the babies back. No bruising, thank the stars. Peter bent down to the tape deck, turning the volume up. “Just listen to the sound of You Make Loving Fun.” Sure enough Groot’s tears soon subsided. Peter broke into a laugh, swaying along. If Gamora were here, he wondered if she would dance. If she would dance, she would smile, and maybe give that joyous laugh that made his heart beat like crazy. Gamora had been under Thanos’s control for so long and now she was free. Peter didn’t understand why someone wouldn’t want to shout that from the rooftops. To celebrate! Sure there might be goons after them but there were always people after them. If anyone came after Gamora they’d help her bring them down. Maybe she didn’t believe that yet, but Peter would show her. No matter how long it took. Groot laughed again, twirling around on the ground. He’d make Gamora laugh again. They’d both had less than ideal upbringings...their father figures were both dicks at best. But Peter had still somehow, he wasn’t even sure how but he’d managed to dance his way through it and keep on spinning. All he wanted was for Gamora to be able to do that too. 

Groot giggled then stopped, a light flashing through the ship. 

“What the hell? Groot stay here.” 

Peter made his way towards the flight deck. Peering through the large windows, lights blinding. His stomach dropped. Nova ships. He sighed, shaking his head: asking himself the same question he always did in an unexpected predicament: alright Peter Quill you magnificent bastard, how are you gonna bull shit your way out of this one?


	14. Reckoning

_I can see you in the distance, and you're heading for a fall_

_Sinking deeper by the minute, you're about to lose it all_

_You better change, before the sun goes down_

_You better leave, before you are the last in town._

_You better raise, your fortresses or tear them down_

Better Change - Dan Fogelberg 

Rocket’s claws clinked against the metal plating on his collar bones, tap tap tapping against the rusted pieces. He curled in his bunk, but despite his efforts nothing replicated that surreal cautious tenderness with which someone besides Groot had dared touch those metal bolts. It was _…...nice._ It warmed something inside him that had been cold. Some dark place devoid of light where he had poured his malice and hatred at the world. None but Groot, the old Groot, the real Groot, the one who was gone had ever shed any light on that space inside of him. _Until now._ No one else besides the flora had ever touched him without wanting to hurt him, change him, upgrade or improve or experiment on him. _And, like the monster he was...he’d returned the favor with betrayal._ He lowered the protective mask and fired more plasma at the Hadron enforcer’s core, sealing it. No it probably didn’t need any fine-tuning but Rocket’s mind spun for something, anything to tinker with, so an upgrade it was. 

“Hey, Rocket?!” Quill called over the intercom, “Can you come up here? We got a situation.” The hair on the ringtail’s back rose with irritation, 

“If this is about the patch job I do more work on this hunk of junk than any of yous so make Drax repair it!” 

He threw down his equipment and made his way to the main deck. 

“M Groot!” The little flora rolled into the hall, giggling and munching on the tiny leaf that grew from his own arm. Rocket’s mouth twitched in an amused smile, scooping the little thing up. 

“There you are.”

“I...a...am Groo..ot!”

“Quill was _tossing_ you?”

“I am Groot!”

“Tsch, well if he did _that_ , I’m about to get my blasters and…”

The words died in his mouth. Three Nova Corps ships, and six officers surrounded them. Rocket instantly recognized the man to the left, the one whom he had called just terran hours ago. _How’d they get here this fast? The engines on those things must be over twenty quarstones._

“Peter Jason Quill and the Guardians of the Galaxy, well we didn’t think we’d be seeing you so soon. Honestly, I’m impressed you made it this far without coming up on our radar.”

Rocket reached for his holster, his other paw reaching up to his shoulder where Groot perched curiously out from behind his ear. 

“What is this about Nova,” Quill’s attempt at diplomacy appeared ineffective. The officer, one whom Rocket did not recognize, shook her head. He slid his gaze over to Gamora who stood beside Quill, as stern and expressionless as ever, arms folded and stance secure. 

“If this is about the Platain town I massacred...that was….a while ago,” Drax defended, both of his knives out and ready. The Nova officers ignored him. 

“Lady Gamora,”

 _Fuck…._ Rocket cursed inwardly. His body tensed, grip tightening around his sidearm. _Fuck...fuck...fuck you stupid piece of pelt….you really thought you could get away with this. After all she’s done for you? You fucking monster._

“You are under arrest for endangering your fellow crew, illegal pursuit of a fugitive and to prevent further actions against innocent plants and peoples.” 

Three of them encroached, the man holding cuffs. 

“Hey, hey!” Quill stepped between them. “There’s gotta be a misunderstanding! You sure your not thinking of the other daughter of Thanos? The bald one with the metal. What’s her name? Nebula? Yeah her! She’s the one you ought to be after!” 

“Step aside Starlord,” the Nova officer ordered. Quill grinned cheekily,

“Uh uh, I see what you're doing, but validating my badass outlaw name is not going to make me turn Gamora over.”

 _Shoot! Run! Get the flark out of here!_ The machine...or heart...whatever was in his chest raced with trepidation. _Take Groot and go!_ He slipped his revolver out of it’s holster and gripped it tight. 

“There must be a mistake,” Gamora clarified evenly. She made no move for her sword even as the officers side-stepped Quill. “I was going after Nebula. But she is no more a daughter of Thanos than I am.” 

“Family relations aside, we have deemed you too reckless to be allowed out in the Galaxy unchecked. You were given your chance.”

“What chance? I’ve done nothing but pursue Nebula who is a direct threat not only to myself but to every planet she lands on.” She spoke like someone who’d talked her way out of dangerous situations before. 

“That’s enough,” the woman Nova officer dismissed with a wave of her hand. “Take her away, she can answer to Nova Prime.”

“No no, no, wait man that’s not what we agreed to!” Quill exclaimed, “we just saved your lousy planet, remember?” The officers moved for Gamora, the one with the handcuffs approaching first. Rocket watched her strike the man, he didn’t even realize she’d unsheathed her sword. He fell to the ground with a thud. _One down, five more to go._

“Damn it!” Quill’s blasters were out in seconds, and Drax charged forward towards the three Nova ships with uproarious laughter. Rocket took aim instantly shooting at the man he’d spoken with not long ago. The man dodged, just in time to duck and take his own shot. Rocket leapt away, the hiss of the bullet ringing in his ears. Behind him Drax shouted something obscene, rushing to beat down the third Nova officer who was making a run for Gamora. She grunted, kicking him in the temple and ran her sword through his side. 

“Guys the ships they….!” Quill shouted, but Rocket didn’t need to hear the end of his words. Two of the Nova officers had gone back to their ships, now firing volleys at them and the Benatar. 

“Get back to the ship!” Gamora was screaming, pivoting as three rounds of fire shot towards her. Rocket, reached behind him to grab the Hadron Enforcer, grasping blindly for the handle, 

_Shit…! Shit! Shit!_

“I am Groot!”

The frightened saplings cry sent his blood coursing with fright. Shaking, he dropped to all fours just in time for a Nova Officer to run at him. He slid on the ground and spun, firing at the man’s back. 

“Die! Die!” Drax cackled, running towards the ramp of the Benatar. 

“Get the people in the ships you dumbass!” Rocket yelled, wincing at the sound of crumpling metal. They’d only just repaired the ship! 

“Groot hang on,” he instructed, he’d have to get closer to get the best shot with a revolver. He ran forward to the Nova Officer’s ships. He darted instinctually on all fours, dashing from side to side and leaping up the nearest tree, scurrying out on a limb and dropped down on top of the ship. 

From this position, he could see Gamora grappling with the remaining officers, Drax and Quill on either side of her. The officer inside the ship sent solar flares at the Benatar with unrelenting force. Rocket stood over the glass dome, taking aim and shot. The glass shattered, the man inside looked up in shock, cursing something before the ringtail jumped on top of him. Clawing, scratching, biting. Tearing into the fabric of the man’s uniform. His enhanced claws scratched the metal painfully. 

“I am Groot!” Groot shrieked, desperately holding on to the straps of the raccoonoid’s jumpsuit. 

“Get off me!” 

The officer flailed, kicking, the ship rocked. Rocket stumbled backward, turning as the whole ship veered to the left, the hail of solar beams skated from the Benatar towards Quill, Drax and Gamora fought. 

_No! NO! NO! NO!_

Rocket spun, grabbing the controls, throwing his weight against the gun, shoving with all his might.

“Quill!” Gamora’s shout caught his ears even from inside the ship. He looked up, stomach buckling. The humie was down, the woman’s arm around him. Drax brought down the remaining officer with a quick thrust of his knife through the man’s jugular. 

“Why you!” The Nova Officer behind him yanked at the scruff of Rocket’s neck with his glove torn hand. The ringtail snarled, teeth bared. He lunged forward, pointed incisors sinking into soft flesh. Warm, metallic blood spurted, filling the raccoonoid’s nostrils in a frenzy. He snarled, gnawing. The man screamed, ripping out handfuls of fur, pulling on his tail. Rocket’s teeth latched around something hard, there was an audible crack and something wet, fleshy quivered in his mouth. He rent backward, blood smattering against his fur. The Nova officer pressed his hands to his throat, gurgling. 

Rocket starred, his entire body shaking, fur raised. His claws curled. In a heated rage he watched the man’s open neck, twitching, ghastly and shredded. 

“I am g...g...Groot…” 

The ringtail turned, still heaving for breath. The tiny flora pointed towards the ship. Rocket wiped his muzzle with the back of his paw and grabbed Groot in his blooded claws, running back to the others. Iron sweet blood slick on his tongue, he swallowed as he ran trying to get the taste out of his mouth. 

“There you are furry friend, I did not know where you….what happened to your face?”

“T...take Groot,” the raccoonoid offered the sapling to the Destroyer who accepted without question. 

“Quill!” Rocket shouted, eyes scanning the man for any wound as they half ran half limped up the ramp into the Benatar. “Quill, yah alright?!”

“Y...yeah,” the man wheezed, one hand pressed to his side. “It was just a graze.” Rocket snorted, though no less comforted. “You think you can get us out of here?” 

“She’s taken a few bad hits but I can get her going.” The raccoonoid nodded, scrambling to the flight deck and revved up the engines. 

_Come on, come on, come on!_

He thrust the engines up and forward adrenaline still coursing through him. He licked his lips, whiskers twitching. The Benatar rumbled, grumbled and spat, finally lifting off from Recseta. 

“Drax, what’s the nearest planet?” 

“Tarque. The largest planet in the Keystone Quadrant.” 

_Good enough._

They raced through the jump port.

\---

“Where we headed?”

Quill’s voice jolted Rocket from his reverie. The ringtail licked at the inside of his mouth, the taste of blood still lingering. 

“Tarque, not far.” 

The human nodded, collapsing with a sigh into the co-pilot seat. 

“So I’ll live, in case you were wondering,” he lamented. Rocket shook his head, ears flattened making a concerted effort to appear irritated. 

“I wasn’t.” 

“Okay, well we’ll stop on Tarque. Hopefully Nova hasn’t sent backup and we’ll be able to resupply before they find us. If we weren’t wanted before they’ll really be after us now.” 

“Really?!”

Rocket hissed, punching autopilot. He cursed, climbing down from the seat and taking off to his quarters. 

“You really did it now…” he muttered to himself, storming down the rickety stairs. His fists balled, tail thrashing.

_How the flark and I am going to…_

Something hard hit against his face, he teetered backward. Looking up and instantly away with shame. 

“Gams!”

She looked down at him, stepping around him and down the hall with a grunt. 

Rocket’s stomach threatened to empty itself before he made it to his quarters. Even ignoring Groot who called for him as he passed. 

\---

Tarque was just populous enough to comfortably hide a band of outlaws in plain sight. Not nearly as big as Knowhere, but still….Rocket could not calm his tight muscles. The cybernetics in his back ached, tugging at his flesh with the slightest movement. 

“I’m gettin’ a drink, don’t wait up for me,” he grumbled as they departed the Benatar. 

“No! Dude! We need to stick together! We need supplies! We can’t risk landing on another habitable planet for awhile! We have to get…” the human’s voice quickly died off in the crowd of aliens. Rocket walked in a daze through the streets. Eyes shifting between the people as they bustled and brawled. It took no time to find a dank, dreary dive bar. 

“Evmon’s” the sign proclaimed. Rocket peered in to the hazy room. A bartender cleaned glassed, only two other patron’s kept to themselves on either end of the long bar. 

_Perfect._

He shoved the door open, hauled himself up onto the stool and ordered two shots of Urkven. 

_If anything can wash the taste of that guys blood out of my mouth, it’s Urkven._

\---

“You,” a voice seethed.

Rocket’s mind swam with the alcohol he had consumed in the last...well...he wasn’t keeping track of the time and the foul fleshy taste of the Nova officer’s neck was not washing away as he’d hoped. 

“You betrayed me to the Nova Corps.”

“N...no I didn't,” he slurred, groping for the glass before him.

“What did they offer you?” She fumed stalking over to him out of the darkness. “Units?”

“....yeah,” he burped a little and took another drink. “Lots of units.”

“What were those units going to buy you, Rocket?” Gamora’s voice rose beyond rage “Weapons for your anger? Booze for your pain? Friendship? Sympathy? Answers?!” She glared at him with such ruthless disappointment the raccoonoid almost had the audacity to look ashamed. “I thought we were worth more than units. I thought you learned your lesson.” 

“What lesson?” Rocket managed a sneer. 

“That there are things more precious than bombs or ships or getting rich. Family....empathy...” Rocket rolled his eyes. “You know who taught me that?” 

“Lemme guess, Star Shit?” 

“Groot.” Gamora answered shortly. Rocket watched her face shift from livid contempt to something he couldn’t name. _Something softer...sadder._ His cybernetically enhanced heart nearly shorted out. 

“I thought...we were a family after that. That we could be something better. Groot taught me that. That’s what his sacrifice meant to me. I thought....I was sure it would mean something to you too. I thought if anyone could get through to you it would’ve been him.” She looked down at her glass, tapping her finger against the rim. Hair fell over her shoulder obscuring her face. “I was wrong about you both. I guess his death wasn’t worth much after all. Not to you anyway.” She turned back to face him, eyes searing as she looked down at him with disgust. “You were right Rocket. You are a monster. I’m sorry Groot didn’t realize that sooner. It would’ve saved him if he had.”

She looked down at her hands.

“The ppl from Halfworld were right. I should’ve given you back to them.” 

Sobriety came crashing back to the ringtails mind, brought on by stomach dropping dread.

“Y….you wouldn’t....”

“No but I should have. I wouldn’t do that though. I’m not like you.”

“W...what?” Rocket tried to conceal the hurt in his voice trying to stop it from shaking already afraid of what she was going to say. Even his bravado has its limits. 

“Your heart. You have none. The only thing that's there is a cybernetic pump. No different then this tap,” she gestured to the bar.

“At least the bar tap can bring people joy and comfort.”

“Shut up! You don’t know what the flark your talking about!” 

“I saw the scans Rocket. You had them saved on your data pad. You want to know what was in there?” She jabbed a finger towards his chest, 

“A metal pump with wiring connected to your main circulatory system. There’s no heart. Just a machine.” 

His tail trashed madly, claws curling around the bottle in his paws so tight it smashed.

“Shut up! You're no better than Thanos! You’re a murderer and a killer and you’ll always be one!

Gamora curled her fists, ready to strike. He braced for it, but the blow never came. Instead she only slammed her knuckles into the counter. 

“Papa Thanos never should’ve let you out to Ronan and we never should’ve trusted you!” He bared his red stained teeth. “You’re worse than Thanos, he knows he’s an evil son of a bitch, but you,” Rocket stood up on the counter of the bar, leaning in to the assassin woman’s face so close his nose nearly touched hers. “You pretend to be good and care about people! Your worse than him! I hope Nebula finds you! I hope she murders your cybernetic ass!” 

Gamora’s hand swung out grabbing him by the back of the head and lifting him off the bar counter with ease. She strode out the door and dropped him with a thud on the hard ground. 

Rocket rubbed his head, staggering to his feet. 

“When we get back to the ship, I’m telling the rest of them what you’ve done,” she threatened. 

“N...no!” the ringtail shouted, turning his back on her. He dragged himself off, into the thin alley between the bar and the next building. If Gamora saw him go, she didn’t bother to follow him. 

\---

The ringtail slid down the wall, onto the trash infested ground. Gamora’s furious green face screamed at him every time he closed his eyes. 

He smelled of filth and stale booze, his stomach lurched and he wretched onto the ground beside him. The world spun in a dizzying mess. 

_Where was Groot? Where was Groot to tell him Gamora was wrong? To tell him he did in fact have a heart, a real one? Maybe If I finish this bottle I can find out._ He smiled at the thought. His head lolled to the side to see the cracked green bottleneck still clutched in his claws. The big dumb flora smiled at him in his imagination. _If Groot were here we could run off, if Groot were here…._ he’d curl up in those long wooden arms and sleep off this terrible nausea. _If Groot were here he’d...be ashamed that he had sold Gamora to the Nova Corps._

The thought made the raccoonoid sick again, vomiting.

“Hey! Look what we have here?”

Something hard knocked Rocket in the ribs. He doubled over curling in a ball. 

“Give us your units rat!” 

A flash of white pain exploded across his head. Everything went dizzy. Something trickled down his fur and dripped onto the cold ground. He tried to reach for his gun, but hard fingers grabbed around his wrist, twisting it. He yelped in pain, 

_Groot!_

He tried to snarl and bite, but the assailants shoved him against the wall; a hand closing around his throat. 

“Where are your units?!”

“I d...don’t got n..no uni...units!”

The fist smashed into his stomach again, knocking the breath from him. He gasped, small claws scraping frantically. The second attacker pulled at his tail, the tender bone snapping. Rocket chittered with agony before being flung to the ground once more. Fingers rifled through his pockets but try as he might the raccoonoid could not move. 

“S...stop! St….aghh,” he gagged as three feet at once beat into his stomach and back. The paneling in his spine twinged and spasmed, pinching his nerves and crushing his bones.

“Hey!” 

A bright flash of yellow light streamed by, screams, shouting. 

“Leave him alone!”

Rocket opened his eyes a sliver,

“Quill?”

More shots, the man ran into his attackers, shooting and beating at them until they ran.

“Rocket!” The humie was at his side in an instant. 

“Oh shit man, I’m sorry I didn’t come in time. Gamora said she found you at a bar….I just didn’t know which one! There’s so many of em and…” 

Rocket yowled as the human attempted to lift him up. 

“Sorry man, but we gotta go, I heard the word Nova’s on our tail already.” 

The man’s words drifted into his ears and out again, replaced by Gamora’s. 

_I thought you learned your lesson._ _I thought...we were a family after that. That we could be something better. Groot taught me that. That’s what his sacrifice meant to me._

His vision clouded even as Quill tucked him safely to his chest and hurried through the city. He tried to imagine Groot’s branches; the soft little lights of spores, the smell of earth...but all his nose could sniff was alcohol and vomit. 

He had to do something. W _hat would Groot do? No fuck that, Groot would NEVER betray his friends. What...what would Groot want him to do? Make it right. But how?_

Rocket swallowed, tasting the blood of the Nova officer still stuck to his throat. 

\---

On the Benatar, after Quill had forced him to drink water and sit in the common area the raccoonoid slowly began to regain his thoughts, slipping off the couch and heading for the weapons storage. 

“Rocket!”

The raccoonoid jolted in panic, but steadied a little upon seeing the humie. He grabbed several guns and a med kit, stuffing them into his pack.

“What are you doing?”

“Somethin’ I shoulda done a while ago.”

He sniffed, taking a casing of bullets and made for one of the escape pods. 

“Dude, where are you going?” 

“Someplace I’ll probably regret,” he whispered slowly, checking the fuel saloge. “If I’m not back in four turns just...just take care of Groot okay?”

“Rocket…” Quill reached out a hand to him. 

_Either Gamora hasn’t told him yet...or he’s even dumber than I thought._

“He needs watering everyday, twice a day. Make Sure he still sleeps in his pot and that he gets enough sunlight. He should be under the portrain lamp for at least thirty nano secs. But not too much or he’ll dry out.”

“Rocket, man where are you going?”

The ringtail punched the codes, opening the pod and strapped in. Looking up at the humie who blinked down at him, naive and innocently unaware. It made the heart. _..no, machine_ in his chest cinch. 

“If I’m not back just tell Gams….tell her I’m sorry, kay?”

“Rocket whatever is going on we can talk this out man!”

“No. We can’t. Trust me.”

He looked away before that stupid face made him change his mind. He punched in the coordinates. 

“Fine,” Quill muttered. _Trusting him._

Something thudded into Rocket’s lap. He paused, glancing up at the humie again. 

“Quill, I can’t...take one of your elemental blasters.”

“You're not taking it. Your borrowing it,” the man corrected, smiling. The raccoonoid looked over the weapon and sighed heavily, taking it in his paws and strapped it to his side. He couldn’t bring himself to look at the man’s face again. But pressed the release button, holding his breath as the escape pod released. 


	15. Where We're Going Where We've Been

_ Daughters sharpen their knives and they hunt for food, others watch their children grow _

_ Mothers going to work, and they shake the hands of a corporate tycoon's ghost _

_ And I'm afraid, ah, I'm so afraid _

_ Ah, what if I lose?, is what I think to myself _

_ I'm finding my shell, I’m afraid of it all, afraid of loving you _

So Afraid - Janelle Monae 

Back in the beginning when she and the others were newly taken, when they were still themselves, Gamora, Proxima, Nebula and the others dreamt of escaping. Each attempt was futile of course. No matter how strategic Proxima tried to be, no matter how thorough Gamora had surveyed the guards and goons. They were caught. On the eleventh and last attempt they’d been so close. Proxima was getting the stolen ship ready for takeoff, it was Gamora who insisted on waiting for their youngest sister. And when the cyborg girl-more her own flesh then metal at this point-finally had appeared, it was with Thanos. She had told him of their escape plan. That was the first time she had tasted the bitterness of betrayal. 

Even now, walking the streets of Tarque with Peter, Drax and Groot she kept a lookout for Nebula. One hand on her sword, the other swinging by her side, ready to reach out and seize anyone who dared come close. 

“It’s gonna be okay,” Peter whispered as they walked. His warm breath against her ear tickled, making her stomach flit pleasantly for a moment. “We’ll find some way to explain this to the Nova Corps, there must be a mistake.” Gamora only bit her lip,  _ to have an ounce of Peter’s laid back attitude. I envy it.  _ She forced a nodd,  _ maybe it would be okay. Maybe. Probably not.  _

“We killed their officers and destroyed their ships!” 

She whispered back, inching just close enough to him. 

“Yeah, well... I mean…” 

His voice drifted off. 

“Awe crap,”

“What is it?” Drax asked, turning to the two of them. 

“Nah, it’s just that I wanted to look over which planets in the Keystone quadrant had Nova Corps bases but I left the little thingy back on the ship.” 

“I’ll go,” Gamora immediately volunteered. She needed to clear her head, get some space. 

“Gamora, are you sure you want to be walking around alone after our recent battle?” Drax asked, a concerned kindness she almost never saw from the man. She grinned, appreciatively. 

“Thank you Drax, but I”ll be fine.” 

The destroyer’s eyes narrowed, but he nodded after a time, conceding. 

Gamora left the three of them, making down the winding thoroughfare back to the Benatar. Eyes scanning every which way for any sign of trouble. 

_ The Nova Corps would know of the fight by now. They’ll notice that three ships did not come back and none of the officers….they’ll come after us. Kill us. Capture me.  _ The thought of another cage made her heart quake with dread. Thanos, Nova Corps. A prison was a prison. She walked on, darting between people, examining them for any concealed weapons or motives. Tarque was small, but no less reassuring. Gamora looked behind her, every several feet, checking the alleys and shadowy corners. Looking up into the buildings and the ships that flew low above the streets. If she were here Nebula could be hiding anywhere, and so could Nova Corps agents. 

_ Under arrest for endangering my crew? Preventing further harm to planets and peoples? I didn’t endanger anyone…. _ her mind rolled through the list of decisions, and arguments, and recent actions in the past few turns.Finally out of the throngs of people the orange, blue chrome of the Benatar stood out. Gamora breathed a sigh of relief. 

She looked around her once more, palms sweaty. Jogging forward Gamora quickly punched in the codes and ran up the ramp of the ship, sealing the doors shut. 

_ Calm down, breathe. In...out...you’re in the ship, which has more security systems in place than most prisons.  _

Still she did not let her guard down, peering around each corner and down every hallway towards Peter’s quarters. 

Something creaked, Gamora’s heart spasmed a moment, instantly pulling out her sword instantly expecting some enemy.  _ Right, left….above...down.. _ something blinked:

_ Rocket’s data pad. That should have plenty of maps on it.  _

She picked it up fiddling with the thing. Something blinked, a hologram appearing on the screen. 

“Incoming Message: Officer Vakrien of the Nova Corps.”

Her stomach dropped, knees swaying.

_ No….no he wouldn’t….not after everything they’d gone through. Even someone as selfish and greedy for units wouldn’t... _

Gamora selected the icon. The image of a helmeted Nova Officer appeared, reciting a pre-recorded message. 

“Subject 89P13, your intelligence has proven most valuable. We are on our way to you now to apprehend Gamora. We appreciate your cooperation. We are transferring another 60,00000.00 units to you.. However, if your crew or yourself should attempt to hinder our arrest you will also be arrested. We look forward to your continued cooperation.” 

The message ended with a static, the hologram of the officer going fuzzy and clicking off showing the blank screen. 

_ He did….he... _ she swallowed, mouth dry. Her stomach turned with discontent. The wires beneath her flesh pricked and stung. The very arm which he’d taken such good care of now trembled.  _ How dare he......after everything… _ Gamora gripped the data pad tightly, stuffing it into her pack.  _ He healed me….he...cared…no. Thanos said he cared too,  _ Thanos would heal her wounds occasionally, speaking sweetly as he did to comfort her, reassure her. Only to laugh as she was tested the following day. She warred with herself conjuring the image of Rocket dexterously fixing her wounds. The oddly soft way he’d spoken to her.  _ Thanos whispered nice things too. Made me believe he loved me…. _ the memories of it threatened to drown her. She stormed off the ship.  _ That miserable….rat! No, he’s not a rat. But... I thought he changed. No he hadn’t and she was fool enough to believe it.  _

Rage simmered, rushing into the place of raw sorrow and dejection. Betrayal.  _ I trusted him…. _ she thought painfully.

Then, even worse the realization dawned on her:....... _ he was my friend.  _

She sniffed, straightened and tightened her grip on her sword.  _ Where is he?  _ She bypassed the main street, slipping down alleyways.  _ No wonder the treacherous rodent slunk away as soon as we landed.  _ She walked with purpose, peeking into every bar window.

“How could I have been so stupid?” 

_ How long had he been feeding the information? Since they left Xandar? Since they’d broken out of the Kyln?  _

“Evmon’s,” Gamora spotted the glowing sign across the way and dashed towards it, looking through the dirty window.  _ There he is,  _ the image of the raccoonoid illicit an all consuming fury in her chest, weeping out of the hurt and vulnerability. She pushed open the door, ready for yet another battle. 

“You,”

Rocket turned slowly in his stupor. Already reeking and blinking slowly. 

“You betrayed me to the Nova Corps!”

The words tumbled out, bubbling up from the place of self-loathing and hatred Thanos had so keenly exploited. Gamora shouted down at him, miserable wretch. 

“Star-Shit?” He mocked cruelly, those foreign animal orbs eyeing her. He could see through her, into the feelings she harbored for Peter, he was trying to exploit them. 

“Groot,” she corrected. 

_ Make him hurt. He’s a monster….like Thanos and he manipulated you just like Thanos did. You fell for it. After all this time you fell for it.  _

“ I thought...we were a family after that. That we could be something better. Groot taught me that.” 

It was true after all. The large flora had sacrificed himself for all of them, her and Rocket included. Though she’d hardly ever done anything to warrant such a selfless act. The longest she and Groot had ever interacted was when she’d lopped his limbs off. 

_ I never apologized for that,  _ she realized. But in this instance of hurt and betrayal she twisted that guilt back, spouting it upon Rocket. 

“ I guess his death wasn’t worth much after all. Not to you anyway.” The words were out of her mouth before she could stop it. The drunk ringtail flinched, alien eyes narrowed. 

“You were right Rocket. You are a monster. I’m sorry Groot didn’t realize that sooner.  It would’ve saved him if he had.” The grief of it made her voice crack. The raccoonoid was not the only one who missed that calming, innocent, stable presence amid a very unstable life. 

Rocket inhaled sharply, his bottom lip quivering. Something beamed within her, satisfied at his hurt.  _ Good,  _ she mused inwardly. He’d hurt her, terribly. But Gamora was never one to succumb to a blow. Oh no, she resolved, she’d beat him back and hit twice as hard because that was the only thing that had ever kept her alive. 

“Your heart. You have none. The only thing that's there is a cybernetic pump. No different then this tap,”

The ringtail spluttered for words, mouth agape. His usual blustery demeanor now diminished.  _ Wounded.  _

“Shut up! You don’t know what the flark your talking about!” He tried to defend, but it was no good. Gamora huffed, eyes wild.

“I saw the scans Rocket. You had them saved on your data pad. You want to know what was in there? A metal pump with wiring connected to your main circulatory system. There’s no heart. Just a machine.” The lie was out of her before she could stop it. Of course she’d seen a passing file on the data pad labeled “89P13,” assuming it contained images of Rocket’s past but she hadn’t opened it.  She fumed but the traitor in front of her didn’t seem to notice the lie. His own pain turning to anger as quickly as her own.

“Shut up! You're no better than Thanos!” 

It was her turn to look struck, though she should’ve anticipated it from someone so defensive as Rocket.  _ I am nothing like Thanos.  _ The ringtail of all people should know, how hard it was to separate yourself from your creator. His words cut deep, to the bone. 

_ Enough of this,  _

She snatched him up by the back of his head, depositing him out on the street. 

“When we get back to the ship, I’m telling the rest of them what you’ve done,” she stated. Rocket quaked, trying to gather himself up. 

“N...no!” He slurred, giving her one last nasty snarl. She shrugged, not bothering to indulge his tantrum. 

Gamora stalked away, back into the crowds.  _ Better to be attacked by a stranger then someone you know.  _

She found Drax, Peter and Groot shortly, following the little flora’s incessant “I am Groot-ing” 

“Gams!” Peter grinned across the way, opening his arms for a hug. “There you are! You got the maps?”

She allowed herself to be wrapped in his arms, if only for a moment.  _ Safe, comfortable. Too safe. Too comfortable.  _ She pulled away, revealing Rocket’s data pad from her bag. 

Predictably the raccoonoid indeed have an interactive map of all Nova Corps bases not only in the Keystone Quadrant but every quadrant in the known galaxy. Intel on their total numbers, codes to several of their files included their most wanted list and their registry of bounty hunters in their employ, of which he himself was still registered. 

Peter’s words of assurance did little to calm her nerves. Her mind inwardly toiling with mixed emotions of fury and raw hurt peppered now and again by occasional guilt.

_ I should not have lied about the scans. _

“Okay so good news is there’s no Nova base on Tarque!” Peter exclaimed happily. We’ll head back to the ship and go from there. I’ll transmit a message to Danarian Dey, let him know it was honestly our bad for killing those guys and we’ll smooth things over, how’s that sound?” 

How Gamora wished she could believe him, wanted to allow herself that peace of mind. His efforts to make things better were heartening. But she could hardly reciprocate, not with the drip drip drop of Rocket’s betrayal eating away at her like acid. 

_ I have to tell him,  _ she looked up again at Peter’s bright eyes. In the moment Gamora managed a nod, and a smile as they turned and headed back to the Benatar. 

“I am Groot?”

“I’m sure our furry friend will catch up to us,” Drax assured the little flora with a pat on the back. 

“I AM Groo!!” Gamora swallowed the irritation of Groot’s cries. 

“Okay, okay, I’ll go get him,” Peter offered, turning to her as if for permission. This time she could not bring herself to nod or smile, but motioned for Drax and Groot to follow her. She watched Peter taper off through the streets, the air of momentary levity gone with him. 

\---

Gamora retreated to her quarters as soon as they made it back on the ship. She needed to hide, to get away and be gone from all of them. 

_ Nova Officers would come after them again. They would not give up the hunt, they were ruthless in their prosecution. I got into this mess, by trusting. By thinking that vermin was capable of friendship. _

She practiced with her blade the remainder of the evening, swinging and slicing, turning her animosity into something productive, something that could serve her.

“ _ Again Gamora,” _

Thanos words toyed with her mind. She thrust forward, stabbing the target with the tip of her sword. 

_ “You will have to do better than that,” and then he’d sigh, or shake his head and gesture for Ebony Maw to take her, for another session of procedures, for more modifications.  _

“No!” She screamed, twisting and slicing again. 

“G...Gamora?”

_ Peter.  _

She tried to steady her breath, wiping her head with the back of her arm and wiped her blade; putting it away before she opened the doors to her quarters. 

“You look...good,” he tried awkwardly. 

“I’m covered in sweat,” she laughed, this time genuine. 

“Yeah well...I just mean...you...you look….like, ready for battle.” 

She stepped aside allowing him to enter. He looked around awkwardly, anywhere but her. 

“You don’t have a lot of stuff in here,” he noticed.

“I don’t have a lot of stuff anywhere. Thanos allowed us no possessions but our choice weapons and I didn’t exactly catch the orb on Xandar thinking I’d join this….this…” she gestured with her hands. Peter’s eyes shifted around, considering, then finally landed on her again.

“I’m sorry Gamora, I didn’t mean…”

“It was Rocket.” 

She picked up a weight on the ground and lifted it with ease, focusing on taunt muscle and the sweet burn of her body pushing itself. 

“W...what do you mean?”

She put the weight down, with more force than necessary and sat on her bunk, hands gripping the metal rim of it. Body tense and rigid with exertion. 

“It was Rocket who sold me out to the Nova Corps.” 

Peter blinked, fumbling for a moment and finally sat down beside her. She watched his arm move out of the corner of her eye, almost making to place it around her but stopped, placing it back in his lap. 

“He wouldn’t. I mean, he’s bad. But he’s not that bad. He wouldn’t do that to any of us. Say what you want about him. He’s not a snitch and you didn’t do anything wrong.”

Gamora smiled, tentatively placing her hand on his. Large and warm and always open. He squeezed it but made no further motion, stars knew how grateful she was for that. 

“Do you still have his data pad?”

Peter nodded it, pulling it out. Gamora found the messages easily and tapped the one from Officer  Vakrien. The message played, but she hardly heard, staring down into the floor and curling her fingers around the metal rim of her bunk. That inexorable rage rose in her again, she almost wished the raccoonoid was here. Her attention moved back to Peter, watching him take it in. His eyes widened, listening then set his lips in a firm line, brow furrowed. The recording clicked off. 

“That little…..” the man’s eyes searched for a while, Gamora could only imagine the various scenarios playing out in his mind. Finally Peter’s look softened. “....what do you want to do about it?” Gamora huffed, flopping backward uncharacteristically laid back down on her cot, staring up at the chrome ceiling of her small room. 

“I confronted him,” she sussed out. “Back on Tarque, I….what’s the expression, let him have it?”

Peter laughed, laying down sideways next to her, one arm propping his head up so he looked down at her with _ ….admiration? Sympathy? Understanding? Longing?  _ She couldn’t quite put her finger on it. 

“I lied to him,” she finally muttered, redirecting her gaze upward. “Told him I looked at the scans on the file he must’ve stolen of himself.” Peter’s face twisted in confusion but he let her continue, leaning only slightly closer, listening. “He told me once, he doesn’t know what his creators did to him. If they replaced his flesh and blood heart with metal machinery like nearly everything else.” She took a deep breath, “It eats at him. I can tell.” The same way it eats at me. After all, Ebony Maw did much more than simple enhancements for fighting. They were both, as it were, built to be weapons. She shivered. Peter reached out, gently rubbing the ball of her shoulder. Gamora only stiffened once but found herself relaxing under his coaxing touch. He withdrew after a moment. 

“But….so what?” 

She frowned. 

“So what if he has a flesh and blood heart or not? What he did was heartless. He acted heartless and my mom always said actions speak louder than words. Or...I guess...body parts in this case? Man...that’s..weird...but...I guess taken out of context..”

“What’s your point Peter?” She nudged, hopefully not unkind. 

“My point, ooof yeah my point is,” he flopped the reset of the way down beside her on the bed, the two of them laying just close enough that she could feel his warmth.  _ I could lean into it...it’d be so nice and safe….relaxing. Peter wouldn’t hurt me. Wouldn’t betray my trust. Maybe he’s the only one who wouldn’t. No….no he could just as well. You felt safe when Rocket was holding your hand in the forest, you felt comfortable when he was checking out your wounds in the common area...Peter is no different. You can’t. You’ve already let your guard down once. Do not do it again. Do not do it again little one.  _ Thanos taunts echoed from the back of her head. She bit back the anxiety, focussing on Peter’s words. 

“It doesn’t matter even if he does have a literal heart. Or a machine, whatever is in there certainly isn’t making him into some altruistic hero. He...he betrayed you, he lashed out at Groot, he’s nothing but mean and unforgiving to all of us...he’s acting heartless. And besides, you could be right. They could have replaced a little raccoon heart with something more...uhh...advanced. I mean everything under his skin is probably cybernetic. In all likelihood you’re right. But it doesn’t even matter.” 

Gamora nodded, considering. He had a point. A good one. One that was assuring and placated, at least for a moment her guilt at lying. 

“You know,” he continued with that impish tone she’d come to recognize as ‘I have an idea. It’s probably not a good one and you’ll never agree to it but I’m going to say it on the off chance you do agree.’She decided to humor him this one time. “We could find out the truth,” he moved his fingers across the data pad, clicking open several files until he reached the one labled 89P13. Gamora slapped his hand away, 

“That’s private, we shouldn’t.” 

“Awe co’mon now I’m really curious!” 

“No Peter,” she repeated, though less stern. “I may have been unsure about the truth but that isn’t ours to discover. If Rocket really wanted to know the answer to that question, he would’ve looked at his own scans by now. He hasn’t done that because he knows the truth. He’s a hardened little monster,” she spat. Even Peter flinched this time but did not leave her. 

“Well,” he began slowly, putting the pad down on the bed behind him. “I did just see Rocket off. He went somewhere in our last escape pod.” 

“What?!” Gamora sat upright, 

“Yeah, he didn’t say where he was going just that...I’m to take care of Groot if he doesn’t come back in a bit and...he told me to...tell you that he’s sorry. Wow this makes so much more sense now that I know he was snitching on you and got chewed out for it.”

“Any idea where he went?”

“No,” Peter sat up beside her. “But we can find out. He took the only other escape pod after Nebula grabbed the first one….we really need to start putting some security procedures and locks on those things.”

“The Nova Corps may have already caught up to him,” Gamora thought aloud. “If he’s caught by the Nova Corps he’ll tell them where we are.” 

“...you think he’d do that?” Peter broached slowly. Gamora raised a brow skeptically. The man nodded, reluctant. 

The woman reached up, running a hand through her hair. 

“How could I have been so stupid? You think running from Thanos and Nebula would teach me a lesson,” she shook her head pursing her lips. 

“What lesson?” Peter asked gently, he stood up, coming to her slowly, tentatively as if waiting for her to swat him away. She eyed him carefully, planting her hands on her hips, pacing. 

“Trust,” she answered curtly. 

Peter looked at her with sympathy, his hands gingerly touching her wrists. He stood close, the scent of leather and fuel and maybe some sweet rellian candies lingering on his body and breath. Gamora clenched her jaw, willing herself not to blush, not to feel at ease, not to lean into him. 

“When I was with Yondu as a kid, man, I couldn’t trust anyone, especially not the blue bastard himself. I used to hide in the storage or up in the ventilators in fear of being eaten, or beaten or dragged into some dangerous scheme,” he spoke with unbelievable ease. “...after a while the only person I trusted was myself. But….for what it’s worth, I trust you.” 

She glanced up at him sharply, her eyes softened. She took his hands, and allowed him to rub her arms. He smiled, sadly this time, bittersweet. 

“You do?” She whispered. 

“Yeah, Gamora, I do.” 

He inched towards her, face close to her, their noses almost touched. Lingering in that space just before intimacy, so close. Gamora yearned for it, closing her eyes. She was not about to kis this human on Knowhere, not even with his music in her ears and the shimmering celestial stars all around them-but here….on this ship, now...maybe, just maybe she could…

“Quill! Gamora!”

Drax’s shout from the other side of the door shattered their moment. Gamora’s heart sank as she stepped back. Peter pressed his lips into a thin line, closing his eyes,

“What is it Drax?”

“If you two are not engaging in intercourse I have a plan for how we may seek out and destroy this traitor.” 

Gamora gave Peter one last grin, opening the door to her quarters. 

The large tattooed man looked between them in confusion. 

“So you are not having a sexual encounter?”

“No man of course not!”

“Oh….that is too bad. You would make a handsome pair. “

“What was your point Drax?”

“Well, I have been thinking about this treacherous fiend. I say that we go back to every planet and place we have been since Xandar and destroy anyone we came in contact with if they do not agree to tell us the truth.” 

“Drax I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Gamora reasoned. 

_ Do I tell Drax? There will be no hope for him and Rocket if I do, with one so honor bound as Drax.  _

“Drax, where’s Groot?” Peter wondered all of a sudden concerned with the well being of the sapling. 

“Oh,” the Destroyer looked over each shoulder, then to the ground and frowned. “I do not know where the small dumb tree went. He was annoying me so I went to find you.”

Peter grumbled something, shaking his head and leaving to go find the little flora; not before throwing Gamora one last sympathetic look. She returned it, waving for him to find Groot. 

“Gamora,” Drax rumbled. 

She stopped, going rigid for a moment glancing at her swords laying nearby. 

“I just want to assure you, it was not me who was selling you out to the Nova Corps. I would never betray my friends that way.”

“Thank you Drax.”

“I would very much like to disembowel the honorless traitor myself. But, I will restrain myself. When we find them, I would be honored to watch you laugh as they screamed. And marvel as you bathe in their blood.”

“.....Thank you Drax,” Gamora placed a hand on his large shoulder, the skin raised and taunt, rippling with tattoos. He returned the gesture comfortably with a bubbling beaming smile she had not seen outside of fighting. Warmth crept into her chest, different from that she felt with Peter and different from...the friendship she had felt when she took Rocket’s hand. But still budding and strong with potential.

“Guys,” Peter called. Drax and Gamora took off down the hall towards his voice. “I found Groot!”

They came on to the flight deck of the Benatar, Peter crouching over Groot who was playing with the controls of the two escape pods. 

“I found Groot….and Rocket.” 

Gamora looked at the screen, used for tracking the pods. A crude map of the Keystone Quadrant with a blinking blue dot shown in the fourth sector, drifting further away. She scrutinized the screen, another set of blinking catching her eyes. The second pod,  _ Nebula.  _ Her escape pod was flying just inside the third sector. The realization dawned on her slowly, anger returning anew. 

“Peter,” she whispered, “I know where Rocket’s going.” 


	16. Bonds Of Blood and Steel

_Don't you understand, what I'm trying to say?_

_And can't you feel the fears I'm feeling today?_

_If the button is pushed, there's no running away,_

_There'll be no one to save with the world in a grave,_

_Take a look around you, boy, it's bound to scare you, boy,_

_And you tell me over and over and over again my friend,_

_Ah, you don't believe we're on the eve of destruction._

Eve of Destruction - Barry McGuire 

Rocket sped toward the third sector of the Keystone quadrant with reckless abandon. He made sure there was enough fuel for the long haul, and was of course armed to the teeth. He concentrated on tracking Nebula’s pod and piloting the pod around the thousands of keystones that the quadrant was named after. Harmless pieces of rock floating in space but depending on the size it could really mess up your ship if you hit one. He concentrated on anything, anything but Groot. Anything but Gamora, anything but the Nova Corps or the weapons he’d left behind that Drax had no doubt gotten into by now. 

_Damn guy can never keep his hands to himself._

The raccoonoid guided the pod around another set of keystones, glancing at the screen for any detection of Nebula’s pod. He counted the rounds of ammunition he’d packed if only for a distraction. 

_Groot’ll be fine. Quill can barely take care of his ship but he knows better with an actual living creature right? Well at least Drax was a parent at some point he’ll now Groot needs feeding and attention...won’t he?_

He sniffed, whiskers twitching, on the small rectangular screen before him he could just make out the marker for the third sector and beyond that the blinking dot of the other stolen pod. 

_Damn escape pods don’t have any guns on em’._ He hadn’t taken that into consideration in his inebriated plan. Rocket glanced down at the weapons around him, tucked in and around the seat. The only advantage was that Nebula didn’t get the chance to pack. 

“Beep, beep, beep, Pod 2 identified, thirty lengths away.” Rocket reached down, grabbing for Quill’s elemental blaster at his hip, the weight of it heavy. He scanned the endless sky stretching out in all directions, a void of black set against the drifting stones. His fur pricked with anxiety, the Keystone Quadrant was large, but not that large and if what Gamora said was true...there were Halfworlder’s out there right now, looking for him.

 _But she didn’t give me up to them_ . _Probably because she’s a good person, despite everything that purple asshole did to her._ How she’d managed to come out of her torture a better person, he’d never know but he envied it. Oh no, he was much more like Nebula. Hopefully that would work to his advantage. 

As if on cue the orange escape pod stood out contrast to the rest of the galaxy before him. He flicked on the communications, 

“Nebula, this is Rocket. Land on the nearest Keystone, we gotta talk.” 

He held his breath, watching her pod slowly come into focus; though he kept enough space between them and several stones, just in case. 

“Nebula! Land on the nearest Keystone! I want to make a deal!”

Her pod swung away, ducking underneath a large stone. 

“Shit!”

Rocket punched the accelerator taking off after her. Whipping around a stone and launching over another, the orange light of Nebula’s engines streaked across the pebbled sky. He turned to the starboard side, narrowly missing another stone in pursuit of Nebula.

“Why don’t these things go any faster?!”

He cursed, surging forward. The engines shook sputtering. He turned straining to see the fiery tail of Nebula’s pod. The raccoonoid growled in frustration as his own ship sputtered after her. 

_Closer….closer...I got yah, I….fuck!_

His escape pod shook, the sound of metal against rock crunched and scrapped. He grabbed for the controls, trying to push it forward but the keystone he’d grazed now stuck to the bottom of the pod.

Rocket looked upward, noticing the last bit of bright light from Nebula’s pod fade into the dark. He grabbed for the emergency space suit nestled under the seat and wiggled it on, at least five sizes too large. 

“Stars damn it,” the raccoonoid opened the hatch, bracing for the cold. He shifted the hadron enforcer in one paw, taking aim, leaning out over the pod precariously, took aim and fired. 

The pod lurched forward, sending his stomach into a sickening torpor. He slammed the lid down over himself and fixated on the map once more. He tracked her down easily enough and leapt over a large stone, wincing at the way the pod rattled. 

_It ain’t gonna be space-worthy for long._

He pushed it forward, with a satisfied laugh as Nebula’s ship came back into view. 

“Not going so fast now are yah?” 

He grinned, steering his own ship higher and ahead, over a large keystone. Nebula’s craft gilded under and he took his chance. Diving down just in front of Nebula’s pod. The stutter of her engines blasted as she struggled to pull up in time. Rocket glared at her from his pod, her own suspicious eyes met his. She bared her teeth, making to steer to the leeward side but the raccoonoid intercepted, knocking his ship against hers with a hot clang of metal and fuel

“Nebula! I just want to talk!”

“Shut up fox, I know you’re with Gamora,” her voice seethed through the poor speaker system. This time she sent the pod flying upward. Rocket tensed, pursuing her. He angled the pod directly under her own and sent the struggling engines to propel upward, the glass of the dome creaked and groaned as he slammed into the bottom of her ship. Pushing it up and up.

 _Keystone to the right,_ Rocket noticed out of his peripheral. He tried to steer her pod towards it, as she struggled to break free. The raccoonoid held his breath, bracing himself for the impact as he pulled the throttle down all the way, sending his ship into full speed.

_I’m sorry Groot….Quill better keep his promise...I’m sorry Gams. For everything._

He shoved Nebula’s ship into the large stone, metal and fire and fuel colliding with the hard rock. Everything rattled, a muffled scream in the distance he was pretty sure was Nebula. 

They hurled into the surface of the stone. Everything shaking, Rocket swallowed the sickness in his stomach, trying to keep his head straight as everything spun. The heat from their engines revved, tumbling and intensifying. 

_What the hell were you thinking?! Quill could come up with a better plan than this!_

Rocket’s cybernetic implants burned with the building heat. The metal conducted heat as swiftly as they launched into the rock. The impact stung, rolling and jostling. The raccoonoid cursed, eyes roving. He curled his paws around the steering throttle trying to control the crash. Nebula’s ship tore away from his with a deafening shriek of metal. The velocity gradually slowed, and the raccoonoid swallowed down his vomit, head in a daze. 

When the pod eventually came to a screeching halt he hardly knew it. 

“N...nebula?”

He coughed, wiggling his limbs, trying to breath through the pain of his aching back and searing chest. The cybernetics are still hot to the touch, threatening to melt his flesh. He fumbled for Quill’s blaster and a pistol and heaved himself out of the pod via the shattered glass dome. Wincing with the scraps of sharp glass embedding into his fur Rocket fell lamely out of the ship with a thud. Pulling on the hood of the space suit he still worse, he looked around in a fog. 

Nebula’s pod was strewn several lengths away, he leveled the blaster in his shaking paws and fired a blast of ice at the dome of the pod where the woman was struggling to open it. 

_Oh yeah, I see why Quill likes this so much!_

“Where is she?!” Nebula growled, Rocket fired again. This time the icy blast shattered the glass. The cyborg woman shielded herself only to lash out and aim to fire back at Rocket with some concealed gun apparatus in her cybernetic arm. The raccoonoid ducked out of the way. 

“She ain’t with me! I came alone! Will yah’ just put the dast arm away!”

He waited, watching her climb out of the escape pod, cursing and stumbling out onto the barren rocky wasteland. 

_How the hell is she still alive?_

He wondered upon watching her stalk towards him without any space suit or protection whatsoever. Rocket bit his tongue but slowly lowered the blaster to the ground and raised his arms up. 

“I didn’t come here to fight yah.” 

Nebula grimaced but lowered her arm to her side, standing stiff and glowering down at him. A Flarken ready to attack. 

“Gamora’s not with you?” She demanded hotly. 

“If Gamora was with me we wouldn’t be havin’ this conversation now would we?” 

The cyborg woman looked around the barren keystone suspiciously, finally looking down at him once more. 

_Wish there was some sort of rock or somethin’ to stand on,_ he thought with a pinch of anxiety. It was better, to at least be eye level with the person you were negotiating with. Plus she’d have the advantage of a higher vantage point if she did choose to attack. The small pistol concealed in the space suit did little to reassure him. 

“You said you were here to make a deal?”

“Well….you hate Thanos don’t yah? Even more than your sister.” 

Nebula’s mouth twitched, face as hard as steel. 

“I know you want to kill him and I don’t blame yah. Hell, I’d help you do it. But what if I I told yah I could give you somethin’ better?” He asked, with practiced cunning. He watched her face shift subtly into curiosity. 

_There yah go, you got her. Just like Contraxia and Vartor and Pleeta._

Just like every other bargain or blackmarket job he’d taken. Every con, every bet. With that, he continued with easy confidence. He put his arms down, speaking with an old bravado.

“Why kill the big guy when you can undo what he did to you? Kill him, you’re still the same old metal hunk of junk, even after he’s gone. Undo what he did to you, that’s real revenge and you can always kill him after that too.” 

He watched her momentarily glance at her metal arm. That agony, that self-loathing, the alienation and disgust at your own body. All familiar. 

“What if I told yah...I could undo it all. Everything he did to yah.” 

She exhaled a shaking breath. Rocket smiled to himself. 

“I can meld over that metal, give you a flesh lookin’ arm. Probably remove that thing all together and attach a real flesh and blood one if you wanted. I could take that piece in your head, make it so it matches your actual skin.” _Could fix the internal stuff too...It would be risky and take longer but it could be done. But I could leave her mods so she could still fight..._ his imagination ran wild with the possibilities. 

Nebula listened intently, her jaw loosening. She opened her mouth to speak but Rocket was on fire now. 

“And that’s just the outside stuff, all those procedures I could make it so you’d no longer remember them.” 

The ecstasy of ideas and excitement was suddenly pulled out of him and he swallowed the lump in his throat, looking down at his own augmented legs. 

“Make it so you don’t wake up screamin’ no more. It’d be like he never tortured you.” 

No wind, no air in the galaxy made for quite the awkward silence between them. 

“What’s the catch?” She finally whispered after a time. Rocket’s ears pricked upward, “I said what’s the catch? What do you want out of this rocent?” 

Rocket sniffed, tail twitching, then took a deep breath. 

“You gotta promise me you’ll give up this murderous revenge spree with Gamora.”

Nebula eyed him incredulously, but didn’t move to shoot him. Rocket continued quickly before she changed her mind. 

“She was a kid Nebula. She was doin’ what she had to survive. She didn’t think about what Thanos was doing to yah not cuz she didn’t see it or cuz she didn’t care...it was cuz it would’ve gotten in the way of her own survival.” 

He stopped waiting for Nebula to attack him. But she only blinked, frowning. Out here on this isolated rock spinning through the galaxy it felt like they were the only two people in the universe.

“It’s instinct,” he whispered, voice low. “You would’ve done the same.” He paused, breathing heavy with effort. He didn’t dare meet her eyes. 

“When I escaped the lab, I blew up buildings, killed whoever was in my way. S….shot at anything that moved. I….I didn’t think about freeing anyone else and I didn’t feel guilty when the o...others got experimented on.” Though he could still hear them, their pathetic cries, whimpering, shrieking, mewling. _Blackjack...Lylla...all of them in there._

“I...I didn’t feel guilty….cuz it meant they weren't experimenting on me But Gamora does feel guilty an’ she’s a better person because of it.”

Nebula pressed her lips into a fine line. Rocket sighed, more exhausted now than angry. 

“She’s tryin’ to make it right. I’m askin that you ever meet her again...that y...you give her that chance. An you know, don’t kill her.”

The cyborg woman glared at him. Black eyes full of intentions Rocket could not discern. The only thing the scientists did not condition into him were emotions. He watched her weigh the options. Standing stiff and staring at the cold grey rock surface between them. Rocket held his breath. He could almost feel the keystone orbiting though the sky. Nebula breathed slowly, he watched her precariously. 

“....You better make it worth it, fox,” she growled with conviction. 

Light relief flooded through him. 

“I will.”

He reached slowly for Quill’s blaster and hooked it into the buckle at his hip, striding past Nebula to her pod. 

“Where are we going?” She demanded, following him. 

“You think I got a whole med facility hiding under this desolate rock?” He jumped into the pod, fiddling with the controls to distract himself. Nebula climbed in next to him. 

“Then where are we going? “

Rocket’s muscles tightened, his stomach churning. He shook his head, running a paw over his eyes, hoping she could not detect the terror in his voice. He tapped in the codes with trembling fingers

“.......the worst place in the galaxy pal.”

Out of the corner of his eye Nebula bared her teeth,

“I’m not your pal.”

“Yeah,” Rocket punched the ignition, bracing as the pod took off. “I’m not my pal either.” 


	17. Little Lies

_ Oh, mirror in the sky, what is love? _

_ Can the child within my heart rise above? _

_ Can I sail through the changin' ocean tides? _

_ Can I handle the seasons of my life? _

_ Oh oh, I don’t know…... _

_ Well, I've been 'fraid of changin' _

_ 'Cause I've built my life around you _

_ But time makes you bolder _

Landslide - Fleetwood Mac 

Groot was proving to be a much welcome distraction from the ongoing trouble with the Nova Corps. Thus far they had outmaneuvered two more convoys of ships, Peter rightly refusing to engage with them no matter how much Drax wanted to attack. They’d finally found a jump port bringing them to safety and despite Peter’s tries he had not been able to contact Nova Prime or Dey. 

“Can you say slarg nut?” Gamora held the tiny nut between her fingers, just out of Groot’s reach. The flora giggles and strained his small arms, 

“I am Groot!”

She listened intently,  _ there is a difference, I just can’t tell what,  _ she tried to think how the phrasing was any different from the previous words she’d asked him to say. 

“One more time Groot, say slarg nut, slower this time.” 

Groot pouted, pulling one foot out of the soil and reaching forward for the food. 

“One more time, I’m trying to understand you, say slarg nut.”

“I AM GROOT!” 

This time it at least sounded the same, though more inpatient. 

“I’ll assume you said it,” Gamora popped the little nut into his waiting mouth and couldn’t help but smile down at him as he gobbled. “I’ll get it eventually, I promise!”

“I am Groot!” 

“You want more?” She guessed, reaching into the bag and pulling out another nut. 

“I am Groot!!” 

_ That was definitely a ‘more’  _ It didn’t sound like a “more,” rather it was understood to be a “more.” From what little Gamora had picked up from the flora, it wasn’t the words he said that were different but the way they were said and the way they were understood, the way they felt. “To understand Groot” - she’d pulled up the info from a database of Asguardian lessons on languages across the Galaxy-was not to learn the words but to understand the context and the individual or group you were speaking with.” Very different from the Kree language Thanos had drilled into her, Kree was direct, clear, easy enough to understand once you knew the words. 

“I am Groot!”

“Okay, but just one more or you’ll spoil your dinner.” 

Gamora handed him another nut, beaming as the little wooden fingers curled around her own. Warm and rough and so fragile. 

“Do you want more water?”

“I am Groot!”

She nodded, understanding that he said he had enough. 

_ At least I accomplished something good today.  _

“Any luck?” She stood as Peter walked into the kitchen, brow furrowed. 

“I’m trying to hack into the Nova coms system so I can reach Dey directly. Are those slarg nuts?” 

Gamora handed him the bag, despite Groot’s whines for more. 

“I’ll get it eventually,” he sighed. “I just hope I do it before they send another squad after us.” Gamora nodded, the sense of danger and paranoia crashing over her once more. 

“Any read on Rocket or Nebula?” 

“Not yet.” 

Peter ran a hand down his face, rubbing his eyes. 

“I’ve looked at the radar for the escape pods and we haven’t lost them yet, we’re still headed in the right direction but there hasn’t been any signal or coordinates. Just visuals.” 

“Better than nothing,” he shrugged, giving another nut to Groot who squealed in delight. 

“You’re going to spoil his appetite,” Gamora admonished. “He still needs the second round of trellian grow.” 

“Was it twice a day? Rocket didn’t leave me instructions.” 

_ Of course he didn't!  _

“I am Groot?” 

The little flora’s smile fell suddenly, looking with large brown eyes between the two of them. 

“What’s that bud?” Peter asked. 

“I...am..Groot?” 

The human man looked at her for help but Gamora only looked at the baby, trying to read his tiny face. 

“I AM GROOT?” He cried, clearly frustrated. Sap began to fill his eyes. 

“I think he wants Rocket,” she guessed. “Is that what you want? Rocket?” Though the name tasted like bitter ash in her mouth, she was not about to let Groot suffer for her own anger. The tree baby in question nodded through his cries, a new bubble of sap now running from his nose. 

“Rocket went on a little trip, remember?” Peter tried. “He’ll be back soon.”

“I AM GROOT!!” Groot reached down, gathering fistfuls of dirt from his pot and throwing them at the two of them. 

“Groot no! Stop!” Peter tried to be forceful. 

“Will you quiet that irksome ficus?!” 

Drax awoke from his routine nap and lumbered into the kitchen area. 

“I’m trying!” Gamora watched Peter dodge another clump of soil, only for it to miss his face and land on his chest. 

“You may be a good couple but you are both terrible adoptive parents. I hope you never procreate.” 

Gamora waited for Groot to pick up more dirt and grabbed him, kicking and shrieking for Rocket. She held him against her shoulder, trying to steady him. 

“Drax Peter and I aren’t a….” she glanced at Peter cautiously. In truth she didn’t know what they were. Something between friendship and something else.  _ An unspoken thing,  _ she supposed. Groot’s wail cut her off from finishing the thought. 

“When will the puny animal return? He needs his father.” 

Groot’s little fingers hit lamely against Gamora’s shoulder, drumming into her skin. 

“Rocket isn’t his father,” Peter explained, the mention of Rocket's name only made Groot cry harder. Gamora rolled her eyes. “They aren’t biologically related. You know that right? It’s really important to me that you know that.” 

“Give me those slarg nuts, I am famished.” The destroyer grabbed the bag from Peter, tipping his head back and inhaling the rest of the snacks. Then crossed over to Gamora, hands out. She gratefully relinquished the baby. 

“Stop this at once,” Drax held Groot out at arms length. “Rocket will return but we do not know when. So you must be strong and behave until he comes back.”

_ Drax must’ve been some parent, _ Gamora exchanged a glance with Peter. 

“If you continue this tantrum you will not have any more snacks. But if you are good I will let you play with my ukillian knife. It is very dangerous and not for children but you enjoy dangerous things so I will concede. Do we have an agreement?” 

Whether out of fear or comprehension Groot sniffled, nodding. Drax’s stern frown broke into a warm smile. 

“Good. Now do not be dishonorable and break this….”

For whatever reason Groot burst into angry tears again. 

“Well, I tried.” Drax shrugged, dropping Groot on the table. 

_ Beep, beep...beep,  _ Gamora turned, looking down the hall towards the flight deck.  _ Beep, beep, beep  _ the nearly imperceptible noise sounded among Groot’s screaming. 

“Guys,”

“Dude you can’t just drop a baby!” 

“Why not! I was dropped countless times as a child and I turned out perfect.”

“Yeah, you sure did.”

“Peter! Drax!” Gamora snapped, even Groot sniffled and looked at her, “

“That’s the pods.” 

She took off down the ship’s main corridor to the flight deck, running to the escape pod locator and examined the screen, looking at the planet that illuminated the screen and the coordinates leading there. 

_ No… _

“What planet is that?” 

Gamora’s throat went dry, tongue heavy in her mouth. A million thoughts flooding through her mind. 

“It’s….Ha..Halfword,” her voice broke at the thought. 

“What’s Halfworld?” Peter asked. Gamora ignored him,  _ that’s impossible. Rocket would never go to that place on his own volition. The people who stopped me, they must have captured him. Or...Nebula must have sold him to them.  _ A shiver went through her, the cybernetics in her face and arms twinged. The device they had given her still sat in her quarters.  _ We should leave Rocket there. It’s what he deserves for what he’s done. No! NO! I am not that evil. I am NOT. I refuse to be.  _ She built her whole existence around Thanos and his whims. A method of survival, conscious or not. She had built her life around him and his voice, his desires still spoke to her. Her worse impulses stoked by his torture still surfaced. Maybe she was beginning to change but it would take time...time she could not spare now. 

Drax’s large footfalls followed them, Groot on his shoulder. 

“Groot,” Peter asked, turning to the little flora. “Do you know what Halfworld is?” 

“How would Groot know where that is?” Gamora snapped, “he’s not the same Groot. We’ve known Rocket longer than he has.” 

“Oh,” Peter rubbed the back of his neck with a cute, embarrassed grin. “Right, so uh, do you know what Halfworld is?”

_ “There are many horrors in the galaxy little one.”  _ Thanos had said to her, after she watched him kill an innocent skrull.  _ “The merciless storms of Evay, the battle slaves of the Kree, the corrupt politicians of Terra, the fire dancers of Yrekret, the experiments of Halfworld. All are evil. That is why we must cleanse the galaxies.”  _

“It’s where Rocket was made,” she explained shortly.  _ Please don’t let him ask anymore questions.  _ She didn’t want to talk about origins anymore. Not her’s or Rocket’s. 

“I recognize that place.”

Gamora turned to Drax who stood resigned, arms folded. 

“What about it?” She asked tentatively,  _ it’s alright. You can tell us...but you do not have to if you don’t want to,  _ she did her best to tell him with her eyes.

“When I was seeking revenge, I traveled many places across the galaxy and hired my services in battle and mercenary work. I once came across a creature who was made in that place. She had cybernetics on her head and more wiring that I saw when I split her skull. She was a formidable foe.” 

Gamora bit her tongue.  _ How many creatures had been tortured there?  _ And worst of all,  _ what if Thanos had some part in it?  _ His evil knew no bounds. 

“Well,” Peter began slowly, “that’s disturbing.” 

“Is there anything else you can tell us?” She implored, “anything about who that creature was? How they made her? Why they made her?”

“Oh, no. She only said she was from Halfworld. And that she was sold away from there to be a fighter. She was horrendous to look at.” Drax continued but she hardly listened, studying the image on the console.  _ The other pod is on some unmarked keystone in the third sector.  _ _ Nebula must have either hitched a ride to Halfworld after selling him or she’s still on that rock. If Nova ships are patrolling looking for us they’ll find her and she’ll tell them anything.  _

“Gamora, Gamora?”

“What?” She looked up, surveying Drax, Groot and Peter. The three of them stared at her with confusion. 

“What are we doing?” Peter asked. “We gotta go after them, or...one of them at least.” 

“Nebula is trying to kill you,” Drax put in. “We should go after her and subdue…” 

“We’re getting Rocket,” she decided, jaw set. 

“But…” Peter began, looking at her with a mix of “are you sure,” and “we don’t have to if you don’t want to.” Gamora nodded, as much to confirm it with him as herself.

“We’re going after him.” 

_ If I were brought back to Thanos, her _ skin prickled with the thought.

“What about Nebula?” 

“Nebula can wait,” Gamora strode to the pilot seat and flipped on the navigation. “Where’s the nearest jump?’

“Twenty seven lengths away,” Peter instructed. The jump port he selected blinked on the screen and Gamora guided the ship forward. 

“I am Groot!” 

“Yes we’re going to get Rocket,” Gamora answered, thrusting the ship forward. Her hands tightened around the grips, curled knuckle white. Her rage mixed with a torpor of fear as they sailed through the keystone quadrant. 

_ This is cruel, even for Nebula. Rocket should be punished for what he did, but not like this. NOT like this.  _ She’d dealt him the blows he’d deserved and was nowhere near forgiving him, but Halfworld was different. 

“I’m going to try to hack Nova coms again,” Peter stood up. She could tell by his footfalls but did not take her eyes from the sky.

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

“It’ll be fine...oh dammit Drax! You have to actually strap him into the seat with a seatbelt!” 

“I am Groot!”

“I did try! That contraption is cumbersome. I could not get the belt to click!” 

Gamora flew the ship but mustered a small laugh sparing a look over her shoulder at Peter futilely trying to secure the baby flora.  _ Drax is wrong, he would make a good parent. He’s just as much a dad to Groot as any of us. More so than Rocket even as of late.  _

“There, haha! I got it! Hell yeah! You stay there Groot!” 

Peter triumphantly fist-bumped at the air and took off down the hall. 

“I am Groot?” 

“We’ll get there when we get there.” Gamora answered,  _ there’s the jump point!  _ “Everyone hold on!” The Benatar surged upward through the narrow invisible space between a cluster of stars. 

CRASSH!! 

“OWWWW!” 

“Peter I said hold on!” 

“I’m okay!” 

Gamora shook her head, holding her breath, bracing for the stomach dropping feeling of momentum.  _ No matter how many times I go through a jump, you never get used to the feeling.  _ She steadied the ship as it reached the other side. Nothing but stars and keystones all around them. 

“Drax how close are we?”

“Not far,” he answered. 

“Hello? Dey! Dey it’s Peter Quill!” 

Gamora hit the autopilot,  _ finally.  _

“Drax, call me when we get there, we’ll want to approach slowly.” 

She raced down the steps to the communication controls. Leaning over Peter’s shoulder to look at the hologram of Denarian Dey. 

“Listen Dey, my man, we gotta talk.” 

The officer’s usually pleasant face frowned. 

“I’ll say. I’ve been hearing reports for weeks.You’ve been accused of killing Nova officers and destroying ships! Do you know what I had to do to get your records expunged?” 

“We…” 

“I know you saved our planet, and we’re totally grateful for that, but murdering!” He sucked his breath in rage. Face nearly red. 

“Dey,” Gamora leaned forward. “Dey, we know this is bad. It was a misunderstanding. It wasn’t us. We heard reports that there were Halfworlders around the Keystone quadrant, we were tracking them down but...it was too late. We saw the aftermath of the wrecked ships and the officers, Dey I’m so sorry.” 

Even in the form of a hologram the Nova officer bit his lip, looking down at something out of their view. 

Peter raised a brow with confusion, 

“What are you doing?!” He whispered, panicked, “we can’t lie to the Nova Corps! They were probably transmitting all the auto from their ships and visuals, they’ll know it's us! Even if they didn’t, they aren’t gonna believe us! We have to come clea…”

“There have been reports of Halfworlders around, we’ve been unable to locate them.” Dey finally spoke, fingers rubbing his temples, Gamora read the exhaustion on his face plain as day.

“We picked up their radar too. They’re after one of our companions. That’s why we were tracking them. They probably knew you were after them too and didn’t take any chances.” 

“Rekal,” Nova swallowed, refusing to look at them, “Officer Rekal he….he had this throat torn out...we found him shredded still in his seat on his ship.” 

“Probably one of their crazy monsters,” Peter jumped in on the spot, a little too much of a giveaway for Gamora’s liking. “That’s what they did on that planet right? Illegal experimentation?” 

Dey nodded, the lines on his face grave. A twinge of sympathy hit Gamora,  _ it wasn’t his fault the corps wanted to keep tabs on them. Dey’s always been someone we can count on. It was his superiors who were after her.  _ _ If there’s any hope for forgiveness after the things I’ve done for my own superior...Thanos, I can’t blame Dey.  _

“Do you have any evidence?” He asked, composing himself. “Any discarded weapons or parts of their ship? Any tracers?” 

_ The device they gave me,  _ Gamora pictured it still lying on her cot. 

“I’ll be right back.” 

She fetched the device from her bed, holding it with apprehension and showed it to Dey. 

“They left this,” she held it up carefully. The Nova officer nodded. 

“Any chance you can send it our way?” 

“We tried,” Gamora lied perfectly. “But it wouldn’t go through. We can send you scans though, we’ll get them to you soon.” Dey agreed, smiling good naturedly. 

“Very well.” 

“Now that this is all cleared up,” Peter began in earnest, “mind telling everyone what happened and calling off your guys?” 

Gamora watched the man’s face decide, going back and forth with uncertainty finally breathing a sigh of relief when he grinned, 

“I’ll let them know. We look forward to getting those scans and try not to get into any more trouble okay? I can only do so much.”

“Of course Dey. We are so sorry for your loss, please extend our condolences. If we come across them again we’ll bring them straight to you.” 

Dey saluted them and clicked the comms off, hologram fuzzing out and then gone altogether. The tense silence hung over the lies she’d told. Peter ran his hands down his face, laughing wildly and leapt up, bringing her into a bear hug. 

“Oh my god that was amazzzzing! You were so good! I’ve told likes before sure but that?! That was…! Wow you sure you never considered being a ravager?” She threw her head back, laughing as Peter spun her around, dizzy, exhilarating. 

“You learn how to lie well when you work for Thanos.” 

Peter beamed, setting her down. 

“I could...I could kiss you!” 

_ Yes! No….no not….not yet...I...I can’t…  _ the impulse was there but reason demanded otherwise. It wouldn’t be right to give him false hope. If she kissed him now it would only be for the thrill of the moment, with no meaning behind it. Instead she hugged him, head resting on his shoulder for a moment. Savoring his steady presence. A warm hand patted her shoulder, 

“It’s okay,” he whispered. “I can wait.” 

“You might be waiting a long time,” she answered. 

“I’m part ancient whosie whatsit remember? That probably means I got some sweet life extending powers. I can wait a long, long time.” Gamora’s lips tugged into a smile but she forced herself out of his hold, nice as it was. 

“Gamora! Quill!” Drax bellowed from above, “I see the place that is called Halfworld but there is something wrong.” 

Gamora raced up to the flight deck, sword out and ready. 

“What is it?!”

“This planet,” Drax gestured out the window, “it is not half of a world. It is an entirely round and complete planet.” Gamora followed where he pointed and sheathed her weapon. Halfworld loomed over them like a vast ominous creature. Half of the planet was covered in purple tinted forest, unbroken and almost fuzzy looking at this altitude. Millions and millions of trees. The other side, barren. A sickly grey, dotted with buildings of vast shapes and sizes, many of them dilapidated and in different stages of decay. Storehouses and bunkers and ships, all strewn to pieces. 

“What happened here….?” Peter’s mouth hung open looking out the windows. 

“I am Groot,” Groot piped up, face twisting up into fear. His large eyes watched transfixed as they descended. He let out a small whine, she looked down to see the little flora clinging to her leg, fingers trembling. 

“Shhh Groot it’s okay,” she picked him up and he burrowed into her chest, crying.  _ Maybe he does remember this place,  _ she guessed.  _ Even if it was some vestigial memory. He may not even know why he’s scared.  _ Gamora gently patted the baby’s back, swaying back and forth. 

“Peter, get our weapons ready. Drax, be wary headed in.”

“This place is abandoned! I see no one to fight. This is quite disappointing.” 

“We don’t know that,” Gamora hissed pushing the lever for the landing gear. They’d come in just on the line of the two halves of the planet. They continued to descend, the surface of the planet becoming more detailed. 

_ Are those…? . _ Gamora squinted,  _ ….bodies. Some of them charred, others with bullet wounds, scratches, that one has it’s face peeled off. They’re all….decaying or just bones…. _

In her other arm Groot cried with mounting distress, his whole body shaking. 

_ We should've come here…. _

The Benatar touched down forcefully, the walls rattling. 

_ No, we're here now. No turning back. Brace yourself. Breathe….in...out….good. This is not the realm of Thanos. This is not your nightmares. Breathe...for Groot...for Peter....for Rocket.  _

Gamora passed Groot gently to Peter and gathered her weapons. 

“I got this too,” Peter held up the device the Halfworlders had given her. Gamora reached out, taking it with a sweating hand and looked at it with reproach. 

_ It might come in handy.  _

She locked it into her belt next to her daggers and swords. 

“We go in, we get Rocket, we leave. Got it?” 

Drax and Peter nodded, Groot gave a soft sniffling whimper. 

“I….I am G...Groot?”

Gamora shuttered, hair raising on her spine and pressed the release button for the exit ramp. This time she’d understood the quivering flora loud and clear. 

“Yes Groot….they do hurt people here.” 

_ They hurt lots of people everywhere.  _ Thanos whispered in the recesses of her mind.  _ You must hurt them back.  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted more of Gamora piloting the Benatar and taking charge! I also wanted to have a good ole' "Gamora being sweet with Baby Groot," scene because things are about to get (more) angsty before they get fluffy. I was also determined to fit other Fleet Mac songs into GOTG so here are the lyrics from "Landslide," and the title of the chapter "Little Lies."


	18. Repentance

_It was a lie when they smiled, and said, you won’t feel a thing_

_And as we ran from the cops, we laughed so hard it would sting_

_Yeah yeah, oh, if I’m so wrong, how can you listen all night long?_

_Now will it matter, after I’m gone? Because you never learn a goddamn thing_

_You’re just a sad song with nothing to say, about a life long wait for a hospital stay_

_And if you think that I’m wrong, this never meant nothing to ya_

Disenchanted - My Chemical Romance

Blood pooled under Rocket’s tongue, his sharp teeth biting down trying to staunch the contents of his stomach from erupting out of his stomach.

“Where are we?”

Behind him Nebula followed with a staunch stride, in fact he was surprised she hadn’t shot him and fled the moment they touched down. He almost wished she had. They crept through the concrete landing zone, though all the ships that once pulled up to this planet were now dashed to smithereens. Pieces of crumpled metal lay like tombstones. Rocket tried to calm his breathing, he shuddered, eyes darting about. In all the years he’d been gone it appeared no one had come to this abandoned planet, not either the ravagers had attempted to scavenge the wrecked buildings.

“Halfworld,” he struggled to speak.

He hefted his gun, one of many he’d brought with him. Nebula stepped beside him, glaring about with an ire he would normally appreciate. Now however, he just trembled. Entire body wracked with shaking, adrenaline, ready to fight anything that might come out of the shadows.

“So it’s a lab, a zoo?”

The raccoonoid’s stomach curdled, _Breathe…just focus…get to the building….3C just….just get inside, fix her and….g…get the fuck out._

“Stay close.”

Nebula grunted but continued on. Some part of him was glad for her presence. Shame and self-loathing twisted inside of him.

_They’ll come straight here, they might be here already. No! You’re doing this for Gamora. You fucked up. This is how you fix it, and you can fix Nebula too even if you can never fix yourself. You fucked up. You lied, spied on her…you hit Groot. Tears threatened to streak his eyes._

“T…there it is,” he pointed to the large concrete building, a husky shell of a thing. Clearly unused. Rocket halted in his steps _….. the doors…. the doors were still broken open._ In the darkness he made out the torn rents of metal where he’d blasted through the bolts with an improvised bomb. _Screeching, fire and blood, smoke, choking smoke, stinging in his lungs._

The raccoonoid sniffed, wiping a paw across his face and leveled his gun, stepping across the threshold into the bowels of the building.

“Stay close, if you hear anything shoot it.”

“You don’t have to tell me twice,” the woman growled, she bent her arm and Rocket watched a series of clicks and mechanisms come together, turning her hand into a firearm. In any other situation he would’ve admired it but they came to a cross section at the end of a long hall and he stopped, looking around. Paneling from the ceiling had fallen down, hanging by a chord. Dried crusted blood smattered the wall, filling his nose with a scent of rotting flesh and stale chemicals.

 _Needles punctured into flesh, straps too tight, pinching. The stiff metal table. Their masks, their laughter, their tools._ His body opened, the feel of the fetid air brushing against organs and tissues that were never meant to know a breeze.

One paw went to his stomach on instinct. His ears swiveling to pick up any sound. Only Nebula’s heavy foot falls. He gathered himself, stomach still roiling.

“Fox!”

His head snapped up, blinking hard, he ran one paw over his face.

“W…what?”

“Which way?”

Rocket swallowed the lump in his throat, the metallic taste of blood still on this tongue. He shook his head, which way _….I came from…down there…shot that one,_ his eyes rested on the dusty remains of a body, now nothing but bone.

“G…gimme a sec.”

Before she could object he stumbled off down the hall, leaned against the wall and vomited. Here he was again, just a sick animal surrounded by other sick, dying, drooling, decaying animals. Or so they were, before he had escaped in a bloody spectacle of gun fire and rage.

 _She can see you,_ his pride warned. But the raccoonoid hardly registered, pinching his eyes shut against the involuntary force of his gut, synching and surging painfully. He wretched again, trying to breathe between spouts of puking.

 _Pull yourself together! How the flark are you gonna get anything done if you can’t walk down a d’ast hallway?! They ain’t here no more. No one’s here, you made sure of that. How else are you gonna make it up to Gamora? Or Groot….?_ The image of the scared little flora, reeling from the blow Rocket dealt him branded in his mind. He swallowed another round of vomit, acid burning at his throat.

“What’s the matter fox? Eat too much garbage?”

Rocket wiped his muzzle with the back of his paw.

“This way,” he steadied his grip on his gun, holding it with two hands and shuffled forward, around the bodies. Down the dark corridor, doors evenly spaced on either side. He knew better than to look up into the shattered windows of the various laboratories. They crept along, through the double doors and down a flight of stairs, deeper underground through the vast labyrinth of rooms filled with cages, testing chambers, operating theaters, chemical testing labs. Rocket’s hair stood on end, remembering the menagerie of agonies.

 _Just keep going, you got out of here with thousands of guards you’ll be in and out quick as a rocket with no one to stop you. Ha, rocket._ He allowed himself a bemused smile, that was the reason for his name after all.

“Agh!”

Rocket spun, bristling, gun aimed, chest pounding, his breath caught.

“I stepped in something,” Nebula yelped, lifting her foot out of whatever it was.

Still shaking with adrenaline the raccoonoid hurried forward, and halted.

The broken skeleton of some small creature lay dispersed and crumbling in the dusty hall. The empty sockets of its eyes staring at them both. Its skeleton had only been partially enhanced as detailed by the odd bending of vertebrae and rusted metal. Rocket crouched, sniffing, whiskers twitching and squinted at the metal panel still fused into the base of the skull. Shining a light on it, he drew a quick breath, realizing.

“You recognize him?”

“Her,” the raccoonoid corrected.

_She was in the cage below mine._

Nebula made no retort, but he could feel her eyes on him. He forced himself back up, clearing his throat and sniffing.

_Breathe….in…out…you’re doing this for Gamora. You’re not gonna fuck up again. You can’t…you owe Gamora that much._

“We’re almost there,” he wheezed through the fight to keep his breath steady. Nebula shook her head curtly, motioning for him to move forward. Rocket slid his back against the wall before the next corner, holding his gun close to his chest, holding his breath, knowing what he was about to face.

The double doors of the room had long since broken, lying like two more bodies on the hard floor. Beyond the threshold the procedural room yawned like a black hole. He could make out the single ominous table, the five large oversize lights hovering above like demons ready to spirit someone away. Those bright piercing lights illuminating a subject’s insides, penetrating light into everything, exposing things meant to be left in the dark. The fur on Rocket’s arms rose, the cybernetics in his shoulders and spine clenched with tension. He picked at his fur with tension.

“Ah,” he bit his tongue once more, forcing down the high pitched whine that nearly escaped him. The raccoonoid forced himself closer, each step heavy as led. His tail twitched, legs tensed ready to bolt. Though the mind may forget, may block out certain memories, the body remembers everything.

 _You do this, she won’t hurt Gamora no more. She’ll stop. That was the deal. Gamora won’t have to run…won’t have to be so scared._ Tears pricked his eyes as he picked over the broken double doors, and crossed into that dank, room. The last time he was in this lab, he’d escaped. Killing the scientists and orderlies and bursting out the door. Groot was with him. He longed for the flora now, not the little thing who had emerged from a pot but his old best friend. Groot had been the reason for a majority of the rotting skeletons he and Nebula had passed. He wanted the large tree with him, that towering presence. If anything happened, if the Halfworlders who were out there looking for him did come, Groot would be there to protect him. _But no…Groot was dead._

 _At least Groot didn’t die in here,_ Rocket thought bitterly. A stabbing pain in his gut. Tears ran down his furred cheeks. He sucked a painful breath, the sterol scent of chemicals still lingered in the air, burning him with memories. He longed for those tight wooden arms now, that gentle soothing place he had risked his life to get to just down the hall where their cages sat next to one another. He’d learned to bypass the security and slip passed the bars into the flora’s holding cell, spending the sleepless nights therein.

“So this is where you’re going to fix me?” Nebula asked, looking around the dark room. She surveyed the monitors and equipment, still hanging from wires, there were medical tools scattered about. _Computers, carts of liquid vials, an array of needles, restraints, scalpels, a saw. Everything just where they left it._ He thought with a shuddered breath.

“Y…yeah, I think I got everything I need..r..right…h..here.” Rocket gestured lamely around the room. Nebula looked up at the large overhead lights, two of which were out, bulbs shattered. Rocket turned the remaining light on, wincing at the white flash of memories slapped across his mind.

He wiped his eyes hastily before turning around and looking at her as she hoisted herself up with ease onto the fated cold table. Rocket sighed, rummaging around for the clear, anesthesia liquid that the scientist kept locked away. He found it easily enough following the sharp scent of it, familiar and immediately bringing him back to the day’s he’d been the one on that table.

 _Focus, focus. Breathe….you’re the one with the scalpel now. Not them. They’re dead._ A small smirk escaped him.

“What’s that?” Nebula glared at the needle poised in the raccoonoid’s paw.

“It’s an anesthetic,” Rocket explained, slowly looking at it as though it were about to come to life and prick him. “I told yah I could undo what Thanos did to yah, and I can but it ain’t gonna be pretty. You want to be knocked out for this, trust me.”

The cyborg woman eyed him, her own gaze much like his. Solid black eyes, with no iris or pupil. Foreign and unnerving. A chill ran down his spine, and not from the hollow breeze blowing through hallowed halls.

“I’m trusting you to not use it,” she countered, though she spoke uncommonly soft. Rocket opened his mouth to press her but stopped. If Gamora’s past was any inclination, there was no doubt Thanos had not offered the younger sister the luxury of anesthetic. The raccoonoid knew well what happened to those who had felt the scalpel one too many times. The body, animal or humanoid did what it did best: adapted. After enough procedures freakish panic turned to heightened panic, heightened panic to fighting, fighting to exhaustion, exhaustion….expectation and finally, grim resolve. If Nebula’s procedures were any like his own then she had grown to expect anguish. Never desensitized, but accustomed to the dance of fight or flight, survival and eventually resolve. At this point she had probably grown more used to that than the uncertainty of falling into a chemically induced sleep not knowing who or what she’d be when she awoke. He looked her over, then set the large needle down.

“Your body, your choice.”

He heard her whisper a ‘thank you’ while he back was turned but did not acknowledge it.

“Alright lay down.”

She obeyed, reclining on the metal slab, face tight. She fidgeted into the most comfortable or at least neutral position possible. With shaking paws he reached for the restraints.

“I won’t move,’ she snapped, voice cracking. He let go of the cuffs. Waiting.

“I won’t move,” she repeated. “Trust me.”

Rocket looked her over, she was more metal than flesh. He finally nodded, climbing up on the table beside her, crouching over her arm. He held his breath, holding the scalpel tight and got to work.

—

In some ways it was easier, in other ways it was harder. Rocket refused to look at her face. If he did, he’d stop and if he stopped the deal would be done and she’d go after Gamora. He worked diligently, it’s just another gun, another bomb, another machine. No. It’s not, she’s a person. An evil person but a person. Don’t be like them. They’re the really evil ones. _Steady, stop shaking, don’t vomit. Not one’s here, no one’s coming._

He pulled the taunt faux flesh over from her elbow down to the wrist. It didn’t take long to find the storage, to dye it and measure and cut. He never bothered ransacking the supplies of the place and he knew where to find whatever he needed. Even reduced to abandoned disarray the labs of Halfworld itself were always happy to provide tools of ingenuity and suffering. _Art, the scientists had called it. Never saying what their ambitions truly were, butchery. Torture._

Nebula let out a hiss of pain here, a bite of her lip there, but she kept her word and kept still. Only arching her back off the table twice and quickly righting herself. Expertly clenching her muscles and sucking in the pain.

 _Like sister like…sister._ Rocket thought bleakly.

“Almost done,” he tried to assure her, fixing the fake flesh to her wrist. The hand was already done, each finger neatly covered with the skin like material and dyed to match her natural tone. She requested he keep some modifications in place, like the ability to turn said hand into a gun. He did this by leaving her palm alone, the small gun therein could come out if she willed it, covered by what would look like a black fingerless glove.

“T…there,” he finished, examining the arm in its entirety. She flexed it experimentally and eased herself up, dizzy at first. “Easy…it’s gonna take a few hours to heal, even with the laser seal.”

Nebula nodded but bent the arm back and forth watching the flexible flesh move with her. Rocket spied the smallest inclination of her lips.

“Told ya I’d make it better.”

She looked up, glaring at him.

“You said you’d fix all of it,” her voice fell to a snarl.

“I will, I will,” he assured, sniffing and rubbing his eyes. Fatigue ached his eyes, suppressing the frenzied urge to run stole any strength of concentration from him, and the arm was the easy part.

Nebula lay back down, adjusting herself slightly and took a deep breath.

“You don’t wanna….a…break for a sec? You were just lying down for like….eight terran hours.”

Rocket looked around, chest heaving in preparation as he peered down the dark hall the way they had come, _nothing._

“Well? What are you waiting for Fox?”

The raccoonoid tried to breathe, looking over the metal plating in her face and skull. His stomach summersaulted, the room going darker, head spinning.

_Just…concentrate…_

The raccoonoid hopped down from the table, on to the floor and dragged over a nearby stool, up to her head and hovered directly over her face.

“If you try anything,” she seethed, “I’ll kill you.”

Even in his delirium Rocket recognized an empty threat when he heard one.

“Just….hol….hold still.”

Maybe this was his repentance, sort of. If he were worthy of it. Rocket gingerly lifted the main panel from her head that curved over the dome of her head to just over her right eye.

“Stars,” he breathed, eyes widening. “What’d he do to you.”

“Everything he didn’t want to do to Gamora.”

The venom in her voice was plain. For once Rocket did not form a rebuttal. Staring into the inner workings of Nebula’s cybernetically enhanced mechanized brain was staring into the one part of himself he could not see during the procedures. _Is this…what I look like…on the inside?_ His insides curled in on themselves, the chronic pain in his cybernetics ached and pinched.

_Use the pain, channel it._

He did, the noxious nervous energy wracking him to the point of near mania. Mania he forced into working on Nebula’s cerebral enhancements. Wire by wire, snipping things there, modifying things here.

“A’right,” he sighed, setting down the tongs he’d been working with. “Almost done. Now come the memories. What you want me to get rid of?”

He waited for a moment, taking the time to run his paws through his fur, shaking his head. Once again he forced himself to look up, down the empty hallway. Expecting the Halfworlders to come charging in, or one of the corpses on the floor to leap to life.

“Leave it all,” she whispered hoarse. He frowned, staring down at her.

“Yah…sure?”

Nebula’s eyes shifted, her hands knotting together.

“Yes.”

“You really are a masochist,” he grumbled.

“I never knew my true parents. I was an urchin on Wresreenia before Thanos found me. I have nothing else. If I don’t have the rage of those memories…I have nothing.”

“Yeah,” Rocket agreed. He would have laughed with the ironic similarity between them. The scientists effectively erased all memory of anything before Halfworld. What he was before he was made he did not know. All he knew was that he wasn’t always like he was now.

“Alright, last part. Hold still I’m gonna put the plating back and cover it with that same fleshy covering. The laser seal will leave a small scar but it’ll heal.”

_Almost done…you’re almost done…just close her up and you’ll be outta here._

Rocket measured and set the fleshy covering that would go over the panel, already dyed to match her skin and stretched it, shifting about her shoulders and reaching as far as he could to pull it down, hold it in place and close it up.

“Okay, the eyes the last bit,” the raccoon flexed his fingers, aching from the tools and precision. His back wracked with kinks from trying to get the tools at the right angel wherever he needed them. The metal in his skeleton grind against his bones.

The cybernetics around her eye were tiny, nearly imperceptible with enhanced optical cables for enhanced night vision. The raccoonoid hunched over her face, carefully extracting the machinery that made her eyes into scopes, immediately able to identify a target’s weaknesses and anticipating their next move. He left the night vision per her request.

“Is that it?” He could hear the begging in her voice, thin and hopeful.

“All we gotta do is jumpstart your system again,” he answered. A black pit forming in his insides, he eyed the busted generator typically used to start up cybernetic systems. Wires and cables all fell around it and spilled out like guts, several pieces missing.

“How are we going to do that?”

Rocket searched around for any inkling of an idea, spare parts, batteries, something, anything.

“Uhh….”

“You don’t know?!” Nebula cried, clearly fury almost hiding her fright.

“I’m thinkin’, I’m thinkin….” the raccoonoid paused.

_It worked with Gamora’s arm…I could use my own cybernetics as the jumpstart….but with Gams it was just a simple set in her arm. I’d have to boost Nebula’s entire system…._

He glanced behind her at the port in the base of her head. Unlike her sister’s meticulously placed cybernetics, each fixed with precise care, Nebula’s were shunted in every which way, haphazard.

 _Even if my wiring were enough to do it….I’d have to maximize electrical output to her…it’d be risky. I could fry my whole system…._ he didn’t know what would happen. Still, he jumped down, scavenging through the drawers and store closets for any spare cables. A restraint staff with electrical prongs lay on the floor in the hall a few feet away.

 _“I thought…we were a family…Groot taught me that. That’s what his sacrifice meant to me. I thought….I was sure it would mean something to you too. I thought if anyone could get through to you it would’ve been him.”_ Gamora’s voice howled in his mind as he grabbed a bunch of wires, sizing them up.

“What are you doing fox?”

“Shhh, lemme think!” He hissed, pulling one of the blue wires from the bundle, this would do. He took his gun from his holster and crept slowly into the hall, resisting the urge to pull at his fur.

_Gamora was right. You sold your teammate for money…Groot would be ashamed of you. His sacrifice taught Gamora something. What will it teach you?_

“Gamora is worth it,” he whispered through his tears of fear. He seized the electrical staff, scurried back to Nebula and stood beside her on the table.

_Groot thought we were worth dyn’ for…Gamora’s worth this. Even if it goes wrong. I always thought I’d die in this shit hole anyway._

So what if he did kick the can in here? What would that make him? No better than any of the other sorry subjects who met their end against the tests or under the chemicals.

He yanked his jumpsuit down and shoved plugged the cable into the back of his head, twisting it in until he heard the click.

“What?” Nebula demanded, she sat on the edge of the table now, ready to leap off.

“Nothing. I’m gonna jumpstart your system with my own.”

Gamora is worth it, you little monster.

“This is gonna hurt for both of us, but once your cybernetics get back online you’ll know. When they’re back and you can move, unplug this from my back okay?”

The cyborg woman nodded curtly, dark eyes flashing.

“You remember your parta the deal?”

“Yes.”

“A'ight then smurfette.”

Rocket hooked the other end of the cable into her, then glanced down at his own implants and picked up the electro restraining staff. He sniffled, wiping his nose with the back of his paw, tears now staining the fur of his face. He grit his teeth, switched the electrical staff on and pushed it against the bolts in his clavicle.

White hot bolts of static stabbed through his chest, expanding out his entire body, through his limbs and to his writing tail. The body remembers. He curled inward on himself, dropping the staff to the ground and gripping the edge of the metal, scraping his claws against it. Someone was screaming. Rocket’s body vibrated with the energy of electricity, his pain receptors firing off all at once. He tensed, nearly levitating off the cold slab. The thing inside his skull vibrated.

_S….sorr…Gams…b…breathe…just…b..brea…_

“AAARRRGGGHHHH!”

He couldn’t tell who was wailing, him or Nebula.

Roving eyes fell on the cyborg woman. He clawed to get to her, though she herself was haunched, biting her lip so hard it bled. The wire between them sparked and fizzed with electric activity.

“Mora…” he gasped, reaching out through the pins and needles in his limbs and grasped for Nebula’s shirt. He crouched on her chest, balling his fist around her collar so tight it tore.

“Gime. Your. Word.” He seethed, choking through the pink of foam and blood and filled his mouth.

Nebula forced her eyes open, her mouth in a tightly pressed line. Like him the electricity beneath her new skin glowed with purple light.

“I….w…won’t…k…kill her. I…i’ll g…give h…her…a…c..chance.“

Maybe Nebula never wanted to kill Gamora in the first place, maybe she just wanted someone to listen. Rocket felt his insides shaking harder, the machine in his chest he wished was a heart jumped and started. His muscles seized, tightening, paws shaking. He tried to breathe, lungs spasming with shards of glass. Everything swam, the lights above became dull, his mind clouded, unable to think, to reason. There was no thought, only feeling and non feeling . He couldn’t feel the cyborg lady’s shirt anymore, or her chest on which he crouched. He could feel jets of agonized burning pulses tore through him, heating every piece of metal inside of him.

His mind gone, his body adapted, trying desperately to protect itself by straining to curl into a ball. If only his motor function would cooperate.

_“Subject 89P13 is nearly complete….._

_“I’m kinda disappointed, I thought it’d be better, this one’s kinda weak.”_

_Stabbing, clenching._

_“You were awake…when they did this to you.”_

_Gamora_

_“Thank you.”_

_Her hand, warm and friendly, holding his._

“Nebula!”

Something somewhere shouted, muffled, like hearing someone speak underwater.

“Let him go! Our feud does not concern him!”

Rocket tried to move his head towards the noise, but it was so heavy, his body would not obey. He curled, tightening, vision turning to black. Pressure builded against his back, at the base of his skull and down through his spine. Pressing and restricting and then….everything stopped.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Much like the previous chapter's song lyrics, meant to refer to Gamora's relationship with Thanos these lyrics from the iconic angsty band My Chemical Romance are meant to look at Rocket's relationship to his creators. This chapter was by far the hardest to write but I hope it was worth it. I've discovered through this fic I love putting Nebula and Rocket together too bonding over their trauma. Rocket is like a little black dress, he goes well with anyone!


	19. Interlude: Groot

All creatures in the known galaxy perceive their surroundings through a variety of senses. Touch, sight, taste, sound and smell. Most creatures use all of these interchangeably but some are more dominant in certain creatures. Humans from terra typically use sight and hearing. Flora Colossus are unique in that their dominant sense is touch and a very heightened sense of touch at that. Through the complex network of millions and millions of roots the flora are able to sense the vibrations of things around them. Presently Groot could feel the tension in Drax’s body, muscles tight like a spring ready to go off. 

“No one’s here,” the man who liked music looked around as they stepped off the ship. Away from comfort and safety. Toward this place of horror and tears. This place Groot had never been to and yet, he could feel it. Like the water that soaked into his pot, pulling him with the gravity of...of something. 

“They’re probably hiding in one of the buildings,” the green lady answered, tight lipped. 

Groot looked between them from his place in Drax’s bulky arms. This place wasn’t safe, it was dark and scary and...he could feel it’s hallowed ground. Smell iron and chemicals and the remanence of fires that were long since extinguished. 

“I am Groot!” 

The green lady, Gamora glanced over at him and offered a sympathetic smile. Thus far, only she had been able to understand him. Her and the other one...what was its name? The furry one.  _ Rocket.  _

“I know it’s scary Groot, but we have to get Rocket and we can’t leave you alone on the ship, it’s not safe.” 

The little flora cocked his head, perplexed. The ship  _ is  _ safe, safer than this place. 

The man...Peter? Peter patted his head playfully, Groot smacked it away. 

“I AM Groot!”

They descended the ramp slowly, weapons out, peeking around cautiously. Ships were crumpled and in pieces, laying asunder across the vast docking area. Not one remained intact. 

_ No breeze. Air heavy. No water, all dried up. No sunlight. Just haze.  _

Drax walked behind Gamora and beside Peter. Groot climbed up his arm and onto his shoulder. The man’s ears made good handles to hang on to. 

“How long has this place been abandoned?” The tattooed man demanded. 

It had been abandoned a long time, as far as Groot could tell. There was no smell of life. Only of death, of hurt. Lingering suffering. 

“I am Groot!”

“Hush dumber Groot!” Drax shushed him forcefully. Groot twisted the man’s ear, giggling as he yelped. The tattooed alien attempted to swat him away but the little flora ignored it. He could not hush. There was something about this place...something that made his roots curl in restlessness and trepidation. 

“I’m not detecting any survivors,” the human man glanced at his device warily. 

“Let’s try the buildings,” Gamora reasoned. “They must be here somewhere.” 

Drax lumbered forward, knives clutched in each hand. Groot looked around, letting out a small whimper as they crossed the threshold of the nearest squat stone building, into the dark halls stinking with rot. There were no living things in place anywhere. No warmth. The last thing that had been here had been in insurmountable pain. Quill held his remaining blaster out, his back against a peeling wall. If the flora had lungs, he would’ve held his breath. Instead he tried to stifle the sap coming to his eyes. This place was scary, it was unknown. No...not entirely unknown. Something somewhere deep inside his branches told him this place was familiar. 

“I am Groot?!” 

“No we’re not leaving, we have to find Rocket,” Peter admonished. He rounded the corner and aimed his blaster but let it drop. 

Beside Drax, Groot could feel Gamora’s slight animosity towards their missing companion. Not hatred, but...profound disapproval and disappointment. 

They turned the corner, nothing but a hallway of...corpses. Several people lying in contorted positions, their limbs all out of place. One woman lay on her back, a dried blood splatter staining the wall above her. Groot shivered, leaning in closer to Drax. 

“They’re claw marks,” Peter crouched by the wall grazing his fingers over the three straight lines digging into the stone. 

“I think I stepped in someone’s innards,” Drax commented, lifting his boot. Groot didn’t dare look, but scurried down his leg and over to Peter. 

“Hey there bud, it’s alright. Stick close to me.” The man scooped him up with his free hand and Groot climbed on top of his head, growing little branches around his hair to get a better purchase. 

Gamora stopped suddenly. 

“Shhh...do you hear that?” 

Groot glanced over at her, squirming with worry. Tears fully pressed against his eyes, leaking out and streaming down his face. 

“I hear nothing,” Drax shouted. The woman shot him a glare. Peter’s eyes scanned the deserted hall, towards another set of stairs. They moved forward, this time quicker, Drax adjusted his grip on his blades, Gamora too took her sword out. 

“I am Groot!” 

“SHHHH!!!!” 

They took to the dingy steps slowly, pausing to survey their surroundings with every stair. Groot could feel the terror now even more so than before. Finally, Peter stepped into the hallway, now underground, a pipe dripped liquid from somewhere they couldn’t see. Wires dangled from above. Groot glanced around, wincing at what he saw. To the right, windows. But no view of the outside world, rather they were windows into….cages. Rows and rows of cages each uniform and tiny. All of them are still occupied. By ghosts and bodies. Four of the animals were still upright, their little skeleton claws still clinging to the bars of the cage straining to get out. He let out a small sob. Peter’s hand rose up to cover his face and Groot sniffled. Wishing it did any good. It didn’t. The anguish, the pestilence as corrosive as the smell of chemicals. 

“I heard it again,” Gamora halted as they came to the end of the hall. Looking right and left. Peter flipped on his scanner once more.

Beep, beep, beep.

“Life forms.” 

Gamora strode forward, confidant as ever, not even bothering to pause before another turn in the hall. Down two more flights of stairs and endless twists and turns. They were getting deeper, Groot could feel it. Farther away from the ship, farther away from where it was safe. Deeper into this miserable hole. 

“Rocket!”

Groot’s attention snapped back to the present, he blinked back tears. Down the hall, through a set of broken doors was Rocket...but he was...not himself. Anguish radiated from him and the other figure beside him. The team ran forward, he could feel Peter’s heart beating fast, his chest huffing with anxiety. 

“Nebula!” Gamora thundered, “let him go! Our feud does not concern him!”

Groot let out a wail, struggling to let go but Peter easily held him back, trying as he might. 

Wires extended from both the woman and the raccoonoid. Each of them trembling, sparks of white electricity leaping and sizzling off of flesh and fur.

Rocket looked up at them, red eyes burning and feverish. He blinked slowly, teetered, and crumpled.

“I am GROOOOT!!!” 

The flora screeched and thwarted Peter’s hand away, he leapt down to the hard ground and charged forward. 

He’d been here before. Or at least, another version of him had...and Groot was determined to get them out. 

Get them all out. 

Groot hauled himself up onto the metal table, collapsing against Rocket’s side. 

Nothing….he felt nothing. 

“I am Groot?” 

Sparks singed his small hands and he jerked away with surprise. 

“I am Groot? I am Groot?!” He tried again urgently, voice straining. 

“Don’t….t….touch...h...him!” 

The woman named Nebula tried to shove him but stopped, screaming and went rigid as another spout of electricity wracked her. Groot only tried to wake Rocket again. Yanking on his ears.

“I AM GROOT!”

Still nothing….the raccoonoid was still. 

“Groot!” Someone cried. 

There was nothing, no feeling, no breathing. 

They were too late. 


	20. Subjective Truths

_ Now let me see, it's you and me, forgive a good God _

_ How do you suppose that we've survived? _

_ Come on, that's right, left, right _

_ Make light of all the heavier _

_ 'Cause you and I will be like a couple of cosmonauts _

_ Except with way more gravity than when we started off _

_ Oh, you and I will be like a couple of cosmonauts _

_ Except with way more gravity than when we started off _

Cosmonauts - Fiona Apple 

“Nebula!” Gamora roared, voice charged with anger, “let him go! Our feud does not concern him!” Groot was already at the raccoonoid’s side, having taken advantage of the situation and darted past them. 

“I am Groot! I am Groot!” 

Peter lunged forward, face as determined as ever, barreling towards the little flora and scooping him up despite his wailing protests. Gamora charged forward, sword out reaching her sister in a moment. 

“Gamora don’t…” she slammed the butt of her blade into Nebula’s forehead. She turned to Rocket and seized the large tube coming from the port in his back, twisting madly, grimacing through the electric hot charge of the circular port.

_ What did she do?!  _

Gamora worked the metal rim of the socket hard, trying to twist it out. The raccoonoid’s tail twitched. 

“Don’t ….t..touch him, you’ll kill him,” Nebula growled behind her. 

“What do you mean, agent of Thanos?” Drax thundered, he held a knife to her neck. Gamora glanced over her shoulder to her sibling, who rubbed her head with…. _ an arm. A regular flesh and blood arm?  _ The woman held her hands up, eyes sharp. 

“More than you!” 

Without waiting for permission Nebula reached behind her, grimacing as she rent loose the wire that was connecting her to the raccoonoid. It came loose with a click and a pop. Gamora watched her fingers twitch, she twisted her neck, eyes pinching shut for a moment. The cyborg woman looked at Drax with contempt, leaning forward towards Rocket and easily disconnected the tubing. Gamora flinched with jealousy she knew was petty. 

“That’s enough,” the Destroyer growled, grabbing the woman by the neck and pulling her backward. Nebula gasped and let out an enraged cry as he threw her backwards, off the metal table and crashing into a cart of medical instruments. Gamora spared a glance at Rocket, who still remained motionless. Peter was already on it, crouching over their smaller teammate with Groot. 

“Rocket, Rocket man, wake up...haha get it? Rocket Man? That song by Elton John?”

“Peter…”

“Right. Sorry. Rocket! Damn it, wake up!” 

Gamora strode over to Nebula who slowly picked herself up off the ground, stiff limbs moving one by one. She sucked in a breath between her teeth with each movement. Drax raised his arm to bring his knife down. 

Gamora grabbed his wrist hard. Meeting his cold eyes. The destroyer pulled his lips into a fine line, then finally nodded. 

“I was only momentarily dispatching her for you.”

He nodded curtly casting one last look at Nebula and went off to aid Peter. 

“Always attacking,” Nebula whispered vehemently, leaning against the cart for support. “You never learn.” 

_ She might be right...no. She’s trying to distract you so she can attack when you’re off guard.  _

Gamora lunged, swinging. Nebula dropped to the ground, rolled and kicked out towards her shins. The deadliest woman in the galaxy dodged, avoiding her sister and another cart full of …. _ bloodied instruments...Rockets...no...Nebula’s. Nebula’s blood is black.  _ She’d seen it enough times to know.  _ But wh…?  _

Something heavy collided with her stomach, air swung out of her with an agonized gasp. She stumbled back, against a counter, knocking vials and metal pinchers onto the floor. 

“Gamora!”

The woman shook her head through the ring of her ears, trying to suck air back into her lungs. Nebula bounded forward, fists ready. Gamora spun away just in time, eyes darting about the room. 

“Peter!” She called, trying to run at Nebula again, the blade hit true, hitting against her sister’s arm with a _ shunk.  _ “How’s it going?” 

“It’s..um…” Gamora grunted as Nebula shoved the blade away, gritting her teeth. Pushed with such a force, the weapon clattered against the floor.

“It’s okay...I mean...this place gives me the creeps…..”

“I meant Rocket!”

“Oh...he’s still comatose.” 

“Stop fighting me!” 

Nebula shouted, kicking outward. Gamora pivoted just in time, grasping for anything. Her fingers curled around a scalpel, grabbing it and stabbing furiously. Her sister curled strong fingers around her fists, trying to keep the instrument at arm's length. Gamora tensed, with a groan she shoved her against the wall, 

“What’d you do to him?”

“I didn’t do anything!” 

Fury alrighted Nebula’s dark eyes, her arms shaking with the effort. Gamora did not relent. 

_ Subdue her. Beat her. This is just another fight. No it’s not. Thanos is not here. This is not a match. Fight her, stay alive. Fight her.  _

The voice in her head demanded. Thanos laughed at her from the dark pools of Nebula’s eyes. She leaned in closer, forcing the scalpel into her sister’s shoulder. 

“I to...told yah...to disconnect the cables…..q..quickly.” 

_ Rocket…..?  _

A hard knock hit against her temple. Gamora’s vision swam, she sliced her sword upward in the vague direction of Nebula’s steps. 

“You never stop do you?!” She cried, Gamora watched Nebula’s knee come flying up in her direction, she tried to twist our of the way but her body was clumsy, cybernetics in her sides spasmed and crunched. The impact hit instantly, sending her reeling.

“Gamora!” 

_ Peter?  _

“Will you stop for once? Just once?!” Nebula stood over her, seething. Gamora watched her reach up to her shoulder and gently slide the scalpel out of her shoulder. She threw it to the floor.

_ Get her! Now! You can hit her legs, knock them out from under her.  _

Out of the corner of her eye, Drax lumbered forward, his whole body tight like a spring ready to bolt. Peter clasped his shoulders, propelling him backward, urgently whispering something that was lost to Gamora. 

“I didn’t come here to kill you,” Nebula rasped, almost patronizing. 

“Then why did you? What did you do to Rocket?” 

Gamora pressed a hand to her aching side. She could tell by the throbbing Nebula had damaged her internal paneling. 

“...he was helping me.” 

Rage crashed over her once more. This time there was no twinge of sadness or betrayal. The fiery fury sent her jumping upright. Something inside her wiring snapped and she gasped, tumbling down, undignified. It was her turn to catch herself on all fours. Through the veil of her hair she found the raccoonoid’s red eyes. 

“You….” she breathed, “H...helped...her?!” 

Her sister’s black boot stepped in front of her. Gamora grit her teeth against the anguish surging through her. She fingered at her belt for one of her smaller daggers. 

_ Breathe...b...breathe...in...out...take down Nebula. Protect yourself. Get them out of here. Deal with Rocket.  _

“We made a deal,” Nebula grumbled. 

Gamora shoved herself to her feet. 

“G...Gams, I know this looks b...bad,” Rocket tried. She only looked at Nebula, furiously clutching her dagger. 

_ This ends today. I’m not running anymore  _

She ran forward without the usual calculations. Arms going around her sisters waist as they both crashed to the floor. 

“This….this is about what Thanos...d..did to you?” Gamora heaved for breath between grappling. She posed her dagger at Nebula’s neck, pinning her down. 

“Everything Thanos did to me he did because of you!”

Nebula screeched, struggling under Gamora’s hold. 

“Y….you could’ve let me win! Just once!” 

“Gamora, let me silence this foul creature for you!” 

“D...Drax don’t,” Rocket hissed.

“You shut your muzzle, rodent!”

Gamora ignored all of them, she leaned down wrapping her hands around Nebula’s throat. 

“You kne...knew what he was doing to me...me and you did nothing!” 

“Nebula, I…”

Her sister rolled, kicked and punched all in one swift move. Gamora let out a cry of surprise, throwing leaping up to grasp one of the blinding overhead lights. She hung and swung herself out kicking Nebula head on with the full force of her boots. Crashed to the ground but caught herself on one of the old surgery machines. 

“You could’ve let me win….just once.” 

_ She’s lying….no she’s not. You know she’s not. The only one who ever lied was Thanos...and Rocket.  _ Her attention slid momentarily back to the raccoonoid who now stood upright but haunched, his red eyes narrow. He swatted Groot’s little hands away. 

Gamora’s heart punched against her chest, the machinery in her side sparked and twinged with every step she took closer to her sword. She swiped it up and rushed at Nebula again. 

“He wanted to drive us apart Nebula!” 

She aimed to slice at her sister’s hip but she parried and pushed another cart full of vials between them, spilling out everywhere. 

“He stoked hatred between us so we’d never go against him! We’re stronger than him!” 

Nebula swung a punch, her knuckles colliding with Gamora’s blade. 

“S...stop making this about him!” 

The younger sister howled, trying again. Again Gamora intercepted, this time grabbing her wrist with her free hand and twisting it. Nebula cried out, kicking. Gamora winced but tightened her grip. 

“You beat me constantly! You…” she coughed, “you let him torture me!” 

Gamora’s stomach turned in knots, 

_ You know she’s right. You knew. You always knew.  _

She lowered her blade, huffing for breath.

“He tortured me too Nebula. It never mattered which one of us won. He was cruel to all of us!” 

Nebula glowered, staring loathsomely but looked away. 

“It mattered to me!” 

“Nebula...w….we were both abused! ….I I’m telling the truth!” Gamora thundered. 

“So am I!”

“I was hurt too!”

“And yet I’m the one who risked coming to this hell hole and let some woodland beast do experimental surgery on my cybernetics.” 

Gamora stepped closer, body shaking. She forced herself to sheathe her sword. Above them the white lights flickered. 

“I did everything….everything I could to win his favor,” Nebula whispered. All the fight zapped from her, replaced with exhaustion. 

_ I’m tired to...I’ve been tired...tired of running...tired of living in fear...tired of convincing myself I did the right thing.  _

“I thought, if I could win his favor...he’d stop hurting me.” 

Gamora stood before her, arms out, ready to strike if needed. Her chest pinched when she breathed, sweat percolated against her skin even in the cold room. 

“That’s why you told on us,” she realized. “Proxima and I...that’s why we were caught trying to escape.” 

Nebula bit her lip, eyes searching the ground, blue and yellow liquid from the vials melding together in odd patterns. 

Gamora waited for furious wrath to come and take her over. Anger at Nebula for ruining their escape plan ages ago. Anger at Thanos for everything else. But it didn’t come, only the weariness of her wounds continued to pang.

“What...did you do to Rocket?” 

She asked, exasperated but maintained her stance. Nebula glared, baring her teeth.

“I didn’t do anything.” 

_ She nearly killed him.  _

“Stop lying Nebula!” 

Gamora charged her, punching. Lashed out, grabbed her shoulders, throwing her into the metal table. Drax, Groot, Peter and Rocket scrambled out of the way. 

“Gams let me explain!”

“Another word out of you, and I’ll shove that tube back in your spine.”

For once in his life, as far as Gamora had known him, Rocket shut up. Nebula coughed, turning, her back to Gamora. Shoulders quaking as she tried to recover. 

“I...t...told you, we...we had a d...deal.” 

Gamora whipped her dagger out again, turning Nebula over roughly and pushing her against the cold slab. She reached for one of the metal restraints, wrapping it around her sister’s wrist. 

“What deal?” 

“Gamora,” Peter’s tentative voice cut through her anger. “Maybe we should….take her back to the ship.”

“I am Groot!” 

“What. Deal. Nebula?” 

The woman’s black eyes skirted towards Rocket. Gamora tightened her grip on the dager, pressing it into Nebula’s neck.

_ Her face... the cybernetics around her head...her eye...they’re...changed…? It’s just...flesh..faux flesh…. _ Gamora glanced at Nebula’s pinned arm. Only just realizing it was...normal. No metal or wiring in it at all.  _ Just a ….regular blue hand...wrapped in a black glove.  _

She looked back at Rocket. 

_ He did it. He changed her. In exchange for what? Units. Protection from the Nova Corps? Her aid in bringing me down. It wouldn’t be hard to convince her of that.  _

“I promised him I woul….” 

“I am GROOO!” 

_ BAM!  _

A flash.

“Groot!”

“Drax!”

Gamora whipped around, Drax lay on the metal floor, clutching his stomach.

“I...am G...groot!”

Groot prodded the burly man, tears leaking from his eyes. Gamora froze. Two figures illuminated in the flickering light of the unhinged double doors. 

“Thank you Lady Gamora,”

_ That voice.  _

“We didn’t expect you to drop it off right here! Thank you for your generosity.”

Panic rose, climbing up from inside of her. Her cybernetics agitating her side and now extending through her nerves to her spine. 

“Welcome home 89P13.” 


	21. The Right Shot

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ****Warning: This chapter contains torture, medical/surgical torture/shooting/guns being shot. I want to be super sensitive to folks who might be triggered by these subjects. Please take care while reading****

_ There's a joke here somewhere and it's on me _

_ I'll shake this world off my shoulders _

_ Come on..., this laugh's on me _

_ You can't start a fire _

_ You can't start a fire without a spark _

_ This gun's for hire _

_ Even if we're just dancin' in the dark _

Dancing in the Dark - Bruce Springsteen

“Peter. Get Drax and Groot...get them back to the ship. Now.” Gamora breathed through clenched teeth. Rocket barely heard her, eyes fixed on Groot who whined and scurried back to Quill. The mechanical thing in his heart hammered away, making his chest cinch with pain. His muscles tensed, claws tight against the trigger of Quill’s blaster. 

“Gamora,” Quill pleaded, “I’m not leaving you here with these….these,” he turned to the Halfworlder’s, “what exactly are you? Because I picture you like mad scientists but you’re also clearly aliens so….mad scientist aliens?” 

“Peter!” Gamora’s eyes stared unbroken at the two figures in the doorway. “Get them back to the ship, NOW!”

Rocket glanced down at Drax, still clutching his side and moaning on the floor. 

“Do you trust me?” She hissed, the human man swallowed. 

“I could kiss you right now.”

“Not now Peter! GO!” 

The man nodded, moving over to Drax and helping the man off his feet. Groot hauled himself up on Quill’s jacket, looking over his shoulder at Rocket. The raccoonoid held his breath, watching the little flora’s eyes wide with confusion. 

“Rocket…” Quill turned to him, mouth open trying to find the right words. 

“Get out of here!” The raccoonoid sighed, reaching for the gun, and tossed it to him with a heavy hand.

The man caught it. “Go!”

“What about you?!” 

“Yah heard Gams, get outta here! Take Groot and go!” 

For once in his life, StarDork listened to him. 

“I’ll see you later.” 

He watched Quill take one last look at Gamora and moved quickly past the Halfworlder’s, daring them to make any move in protest. 

“We aren’t here for them,” the female reprimanded her colleague, the male, who leered towards Quill as he snuck past. “You heard her orders. We are to get Subject 89P13 only.” 

Something wet and warm trickled down the raccoonoid’s leg. If he’d been anywhere else, he’d be ashamed. But this place….it stripped all shame all confidence of you. Revealing only your deepest fears and insecurities to the point where you no longer cared about your dignity. Only your survival. The two, Rocket had learned long ago...were easily severed. 

The female alien grinned, turning back to him, Gamora and Nebula. 

“You really thought you escaped, didn’t you?” They rushed forward, revealing those all too familiar electric prongs. 

Rocket panicked, scrambling for anything in sight. 

“Quick try this!” 

The ringtail swiped the device that the Halfworlder’s gave Gamora from her belt. 

“Rocket no! Don’t!”

He charged ahead, pressing the center button on the device, aiming at their chests. 

He dropped the device instantly. His back arching, scalding pain alit his small nervous system, sending off pain receptors everywhere, snapping and popping. He swallowed the animalistic whimper building in his throat, curling himself in a ball. His hair stood on end, white electricity snapping and crackling. Every hard stood on end even as he fell to the ground, body twitching.

Gamora ran forward, sword out, beating them back as best she could. 

“Nebula get him….aaarrrghhhh!!!!” 

The raccoonoid blinked slowly. Through his blurry vision he could barely make out the male alien, sticking one of the pokers in Gamora’s side, taking advantage of her momentary distraction. She crumpled beside him, her own cybernetics in her face glowing and sparking. If he hadn’t been in so much pain...and so furious...he may have felt a twinge of sympathy. Maybe.

“H...how...l..long have y...you b...ben holding on to ...t..th...that?” He panted through the burning in his belly.

Gamora twisted her neck around, glaring daggers at him from under a messy tangle of her hair. 

“About as long as you were spying on me.”

Rocket snarled, teeth bared a nasty reply formed but never delivered. Rough hands grabbed him by the scruff, jerking him up with an agonizing pinch in the back of his neck.

“What are you going to do with them?” Nebula’s rough voice cut through the sound static sparking through the bolts in his back.

Rocket tried to swipe back at them, legs and tail thrashing madly, every move met with flaring stinging agony. 

“That is no concern of yours.”

Nebula’s gaze found him, Rocket struggled to keep his eyes open.

“It’s a pity,” the alien woman holding him continued. “Thanos never sold us any of his projects. Even a defective one.” She ran her oily eyes over Nebula with a dehumanizing appraisal Rocket knew all too well. Nebula winced. The alien woman turned back to him, tightening her grip on his fur. “But alas, vermin were free and expendable, so vermin is what we worked with. Luckily Terra had vermin to spare.”

Someone grunted, Rocket clenched his teeth, twisting to see Gamora drag herself up once more, clutching her side. The cybernetics in her face glowing with electricity. She tensed, adjusting her grip on her sword and moving forward. Nebula grabbed her shoulders, steadying her, whispering something he could not hear. 

“Come, she will be waiting for him.” 

This time, he could not stifle the whimper coming from his throat. 

\---

“P….please,” he tried, vision swimming. 

_ Where the flark are we?  _

His mind was sluggish, limbs and tail heavy. He’d been stripped down. Someone was inserting tubes into his back, his ears twitched at the click as it locked into place. Arms hung suspended, head low. 

_ This isn’t a lab...a ship? No. We’re not on a ship. Where’s my fucking gun? Where’s...Gamora? Groot? GROOT? _

Rocket tried to struggle, only to stumble and sag with the weight of the tubes fixated to his back and into the front of the bolts of the cybernetics in his clavicle. Thick fluid syrupy and cold made its way from the machine and into his body. He could feel it moving through him, doing who knew what. For all his genius and awareness, for all his sentience, they’d made sure he knew very little about his own making. Rocket, who knew every type of gun on every planet, who could replicate a resecian bomb and could pilot even the most ancient of Esselian crafts….knew nothing of his own biology. 

“Please,” he whispered the shadow of the alien Halfworld woman falling over him. She crouched down to him, slit pupiled eyes staring into him. “Please...d...don’t take me apart again. I...d..don’t want to be put back together.” The very thought of enduring that again made his body tremble, tubes and wires rattling with his movement. They pulled on him, tearing his skin. 

“Oh you won’t be,” she smirked, revealing yellow fangs. “Not this time.” The raccoonoid’s belly sunk with icy dread. 

_ No….stop it… claw her eyes out! Too tired….can’t move freely...what are they putting inside me? Whymy….dizzy?  _

“Your creator has no interest in her failed experiment.” 

_ Failed. _

_ Failed Gamora _

_ Failed Groot _

_ Failed the new version of Groot _

_ Hurt Gamora _

_ Betrayed Gamora _

_ Hurt Groot _

_ Failed _

He couldn’t make the words right, thoughts came slow and jumbled and when they did come to him...he couldn’t...couldn’t make his mouth move to form the words. 

“F...faile...faild?” 

Through blurry vision, he could see the Halfworlder nod. 

“You are a cruel and tempestuous wretch. Your existence to an affront to all who breathe. You were given life by the hands of your creator because she wanted to make something beautiful.” The alien continued, words reaching his ears in slow motion. Rocket swayed, closing his eyes. The chemicals coming through those tubes...they were putting things into his blood, but somehow….sucking him dry of any awareness. His mind tried to go through the rollodox of toxins, poisons but couldn’t name any. 

_ A monster…. _

_ A monster who betrays their friends  _

_ A monster who hit Groot _

He tried to flex his paws but the movement was clumsy. 

“We will be getting on our way soon enough. By the time we get back your cerebral deprograming will be complete and hopefully she will be able to harvest what’s left.” 

_ What’s left?  _

_ GET A GUN YOU IDIOT! FIGHT, CLAW THIS BITCH TO PIECES! TEAR THESE FUCKING TUBES! RUN! RUN! RUN! _

Rocket tried to move, to swipe weakly at the woman before him. She only smirked, standing. Eyes looking over his vulnerable twitching form for a moment, making him want to claw her insides out. But his chest only sunk with an invisible weight. She sniffed, and departed. His eyes closed to black before she left the room. 

_ Gamora...she was asleep during her enhancements...no. Not asleep. Gone. Gone during her enhancements and brought back after. Where did she go?  _ Where was he going? His brain liquidating in his skull, his body pumped with unknown substances. How did Gamora do it? How did she stand it? What did she cling to when she was falling away?

_ Failed.  _

_ A failed subject. A failed friend. _

Rocket hung suspended from the wires and tubes that created and would now destroy him. The worst thing was….he didn’t mind. The ringtail smiled to himself, letting his eyes close again. Chemicals rushing through him in a tumult of nausea and spinning. The dark behind his eyes was different from that of sleep...somehow even that blackness was unnatural. 

_ It’s better...like this. ...G...Gamora will...what are they doing to me? Gamora will...get the others back to the….to the...the thing that will let them get away. RUN! CLAW! TEAR! TEAR OUT THESE THINGS AND GO! She’ll get em to safety...Why’d you come here? Didn’t I escape Halworld? No. Never left. Groot...Groot where’s Groot? Did I….GET OUT!  _

Rocket’s mind drifted from one fractured thought to another

_ Earthen smells…other smells. Gamora….repairing her arm.  _

_ Her words.  _

_ What did she say?  _

_ GET OUT OF HERE! KICK, CLAW, SCREAM! SHOOT! SHOOT THE GUN! _

He was drowning….drowning from the inside out. The buzzing and clicking around the room now sounded funny. His tongue tasted salty in his mouth, 

_ Flecks of wood chips from the blast on Xandar.  _

_ Groot. Dead.  _

_ His own claws tearing through wood...scratching the new Baby Groot.  _

“Cerebral deprogramming 55% complete.” Voices...far away...like they were muffled underwater. 

Rocket clenched his fists, trying to concentrate on the reality of his surroundings. Claws digging into the sensitive pads of his paws. He sniffed, trying to recall what was around him.  _ Chemicals, metal, blood.  _

_ GET A G…. _

_ What was that word?  _

_ The thing that fired bullets that stopped people in their tracks. _

_ The woman with the green skin. The woman he hurt. The tree creature, small and crying for him. Him. What was him? A cruel tempestuous creature.  _ He tried to move, but only flung his head backward in a coordinated effort. Sending more shocks of anguish through his own skeleton. 

_ I’m sorry….. _

_ I’m sorry….  _

_ I never shoulda…. _

_ IThing went too far… _

_ I’m sorry… _

_ I’m…. _

_ I’m… _

_ I…..I...I... _

_ You, you, you… _

_ You ...the tree thing….you, the green woman  _

The green woman who hurt as much as he did.

_ G...m...Gmora _

_ S...ry...Gaamo..r...a _

_ Friend.  _

Rocket’s mind lost words….vision long since having gone black. He was slipping. Falling… dimly aware of the throbbing in his neck and throughout his cybernetics. He went stiff, straining against whatever the aliens had injected into him. But that battle was lost the moment they’d hooked him to the tubes. Still the raccoonoid went rigid against it. Until he couldn’t. All that bravado and zeal for nothing. 

“Deprograming is at 63%.” 

“Good. Come, we’ll prepare the ship to leave. By the time we get back it’ll be done.” 

“Hang on, these outputs are outrageous! It actually bonded with Subject FC616! Oh look it’s crying! You gotta see these images! 89P13 certainly tried to make a life for itself.”

“Good. She’ll want to see it all upon our return.”

“Regret...sorrow...grief...joy...music…? It makes no sense.” 

“It was responding to stimulus from the outside environment. It’s programming filled in the gaps for what it believed it should “feel.” It was designed to do that.” 

“Huh. Alright, let’s go.”

The doors slid closed, Rocket’s consciousness ebbed. Sinking away. So heavy. 

_ Gmra...Grot… _

_ \--- _

“Rocket!” 

“Rocket!”

Something warm and rough cupped around him...around his...shoulders? 

The ringtail fought back the darkness as soon as he became aware of it. Being dragged up from wherever he’d been. An endless void of black nothing.

_ A voice. _

He blinked, slowly, colors of green and pink?

“Rocket look at me,” the thing before him spoke fast. “I know you're scared, I know you’re in pain. I know how that feels. You know I do.”

_ Focus…. _

_ Can’t….tired... _

_ FOCUS!  _

“I know this is the most horrifying place in the galaxy for you.” Rocket swayed from side to side, trying to rock himself awake. But the dark void place he’d been beckoned. Pulled at him. So nice, so blank...so devoid of everything. 

“I know you’re scared. I’m scared too. That’s why we need to get out of here but I need your gun. Where is it? Can you point?”

Rocket gestured vaguely. The woman...he could tell it was a woman now. _ But who?  _ She looked in the direction he indicated. Only to return her gaze to him, her eyes. Her eyes were somehow soft and hard at the same time. 

_ ….Gmmmm….m...or...ra?  _

_ Ga..mora? _

_ Gamora?!  _

“Rocket….I need you to tell me where they put your gun.”

“...G...mora?”

His chest tingled, his limbs and tail still lead weight. He could barely move. Trying to clear his head of the dense fog inside his skull. 

She shook him, his cybernetics fizzing painfully. The fire in his nerves jolted at him. 

“Ga...Gamora?!”

“Yes! Good! Now, where is your gun?!” 

Something behind her crashed. Screamed. 

The ringtail roved his eyes over the room, to the right, then the left. Counters, buttons, monitors.

“Rocket!” She hissed urgently. “Look at me! Do you trust me?” 

Rocket blinked in momentary recognition, then nodded. 

Gamora leapt upward, grunting as she collided with the figure who’d barged into the room. He watched them wrestle, each grappling for the other. The green woman’s sword came down, again and again, trying to strike, stumbling back, striking again. She twisted, running the butt of her sword into the other woman’s head. The Halfworlder grunted, curling into a ball. Gamora ran forward, yanking the wires and tubes from him. They released with an agonizing twist, the liquid chemicals leaking out clear and congealing. Rocket’s legs flooded, tail trying to find balance but failed. 

“Where’s your gun?!”

“G...gun?”

A second figure tore into the room, this one larger. The rushed for Gamora who lifted her sword just in time to fend him off. They sprung apart and she grabbed a handful of tubing in her fists, swinging it towards him. He cursed, stumbling back,wiping the liquid from his face. 

Rocket let out an involuntary squeak, the alien woman regained her footing now aimed at him, clawed hands ready to seize him. He tried to spring out of the way, but his body wouldn’t follow direction and he flopped to the ground, only to be caught up in her iron grip. He kicked, clawing. 

“Rocket!”

He turned, Gamora backed away from the alien man, eyes searching for anything she could use as a weapon. 

“Th...there!” Rocket managed to nod towards where he spotted his jumpsuit any other items, tucked away by one of the monitors. Gamora crouched just before the Halfoworlder punched. She slid on the ground running to the counter, madly rifling through his belongings. 

“How does this work?” She screamed, letting out a cry of anger and lifting her blade over her head with her spare arm, she brought it down on the male Halfworlder. He screeched, stumbling back clutching his arm. 

“Sh...shoot...e..em w...with the...not handle part!”

“I know that much!”

The alien who held him tightened her grip, Rocket’s vision spun. His mind and body had not fully returned to him.

“You insufferable animal!” 

Claws dug into his back, around the tender skin grafted around his cybernetic paneling. Digging into his flesh and yanking at him. The wiring beneath the skin pulled at the veins and tissue

“Rocket hold still!”

Gamora shouted, holding the gun with ready arms, she peered through the scope, trying to get the accurate aim.

“Gamora!”

The male alien lunged for her, knife out and ready to tear the gun from her hands. She turned, instantly and shot. 

Rocket watched with wide eyed shock as the alien’s head jerked back and his body collapsed, twitching and went still.

The sharp tear in his skin, raw and stinging brought him back to the face of the Halfworld alien. She sneered, tugging at the panel in his back. The ringtail panicked, this time his body obeyed, more or less. He lashed out with his claws, ears pinned to his skull, mouth foamed with blood and saliva. He buckled and wriggled, ignoring the fiery shock ravaging through his body. 

“Hold still!”

“C...can’t!” 

Rocket strained to shout, throat rasping. 

The alien pulled again, this time eliciting the ringtail to vomit in pain. He pinched his eyes shut against the wrenching in his spine as she tugged at the panel again. 

_ No...no...no...no!  _

_ BAM!  _

Rocket dropped to the floor with a hard thunk, his insides quivering with the impact. His tail twitched, electricity around the panel in his back fritzed out. He reached one arm up slowly, trying to message the area around the damaged panel. 

Gamora stormed ahead, past him, to where the alien woman crouched, one hand to her shoulder. Black blood bubbled up from the surface of her wound. 

“L….Lady...G...Gamora, pl..please. W...we can compensate you for it. How much...d..do you want? Units? Esken gold?” 

Rocket tried to heave himself up, swallowing the blood in his mouth. His whole body ached. Vision still blurred around the edges. He faded in and out of awareness, recurring shocks of stinging pain waved over him every few seconds, bringing him back to consciousness. 

Gamora bared her teeth, looming over the Halfworlder, gun at her head. 

“Ga….Gams,” he tried. 

“N…..n….name your price….D...daughter of T...Thanos.” 

“Shut up!” She hefted the gun, squeezing the trigger. 

“Go on…” the Halfworlder grinned. “I’m hardly the first person you’ve killed….y...you enj...enjoy it...don’t y...you? He...he raised you well.” 

Rocket stood on shaking legs,

“G...Gamora!”

The woman ignored him, leering at the injured alien woman. Her whole body shaking. 

“W...what's it worth to you? We’ll double it. N...name your price.”

She turned over her shoulder, looking at him. Rocket froze, staring at her. Gamora adjusted her grip on the gun but did not look away, her eyes boring into him. The ringtail steadied himself under the crushing weight of her gaze.

_ She wouldn’t….she said she wouldn’t before...even when she was angry… _

_ “I’m not like you.”  _

“Go on...d..daughter of Thanos...what will you trade for it? We’ll give you anything you want.”

Gamora looked at him, eyes narrow with contempt. He watched her bite the inside of her cheek. His own stomach turning. 

“....well?” 

She took a breath, held it. Still staring at him unblinking. He watched her turn her stance, pointing the barrel of the gun squarely between his eyes. 

Rocket’s guts squirmed, tail sticking up, hairs prickling. 

_...Gamora…. _

She glared at him from above the gun, barely breathing. 

“G...gams...I…”

Her brows narrowed, 

_ Do. You. Trust. Me?  _

_ Yes. _

Her wrist flicked, he flinched, going on all fours instantly. Then blinked, her fingers no longer held the trigger, but rotated the weapon around handing it to him. 

It dawned on him too late. 

The Halfoworld alien screeched in rage, making her move, leaping upward. Gamora spun, gun still in hand,

BAM! BAM! BAM!

The alien dropped instantly going still, blood pooling under her. 

“We have to go,” Gamora ordered, monotone. 

The ringtail opened his mouth but the words were still slow. 

“Put this on,” she ordered, throwing his jumpsuit at him. “Can you walk?” 

“Tsch...of course I …”

She didn’t wait for him. Dropping the gun, turning on her heel, and out of the lab room a limp in her step.

“Gams! W...wait!”

He tripped up, not expecting her to stop. She looked down at him, skeptical. 

_ Flark me,  _

Rocket reached out, shaking paws grabbing at her boot. He hoisted himself up, crawling his way up her back and purchasing on her shoulder. She shifted her shoulders, glancing at him, waiting for him to secure himself. 

He only nodded and held on as she took off, down the dark halls, up the stairs, through the halls. Surprisingly light on her feet, sword in hand, body tense and ready to fight at anything that might leap from the shadows. From his hand on her head, Rocket could feel the nerve tremors beneath her skin, hot to the touch. Her own cybernetics were damaged, the lines of facial enhancements in her cheek no longer seamless but broken and cut between flesh and metal.

Gamora rounded the corner, through another set of doors and out into the open. 

_ Wh...where’s the...Benatar?  _

“HALT! By order of the Nova Corps, Subject 89P13, Gamora Daughter of Thanos you are under arrest for murdering an officer, lying under oath, and gross endangerment of your crew.” 

Gamora let out a cough, chest heaving. She sheathed her sword. She reached up to him, Rocket expected her to throw him off, but she only pulled her hair back from her face. 

“Gamora!” 

Quill ran down the ramp of the Benatar, 

“You got him! C’mon we gotta…..Nova’s here we have to…!”

Rocket couldn’t help but smirk, a pain twinging in his side as he laughed.

“Th...thank you..c...captain obvious.”

“Wow really?! The ONE time you acknowledge I’M the captain you…”

“B...bigger problems here Quill!” 

From his place on Gamora’s shoulder, he thought he heard her huff in satisfied agreement.

It wasn’t much, but it was something. 

**Author's Note:**

> I usually write fics from Rocket's POV so this first chapter was fun to do with Gamora. I really enjoy writing her perspective and can't wait to explore it more throughout this fic! Apologies if this chapter seemed a little rushed. I had to establish the setting at the conclusion of GOTGVol1 in order to get things moving!


End file.
